


Three Musketeers and a Bébé

by DebbieF



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen, Involves a three year old d'Artagnan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-22 02:13:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 46
Words: 126,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7415266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebbieF/pseuds/DebbieF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Credit for picture goes to Elenduen!<br/>Beginning of a new series here that Marg and Elenduen prodded me into.<br/>Title is a take off from 'Three Men and a Baby'.<br/>Help getting this picture and story in the same place goes to my longtime writing pal M_LadyinWaiting (Tanis).<br/>Aside from my own investigating for information, Maryg and Elenduen have been very helpful. Especially Maryg, who also gave me the idea for my first chapter as well in how the boys meet their bébé.<br/>Any mommas out there that may read something they don't like please don’t throw rotten tomatoes at me. It is fan fiction after all. LOL!<br/>I thought of changing the title since my story involves a three year old, but Maryg told me to keep it the same since at that age they are still considered babies with babyish ways.<br/>Inseparable's ages: 25 or 26 in this. </p><p>Heads up! Photobucket changed their policy and I can't use it for 3rd party hosting now unless I pay. Understanding them, all my uploaded pictures to Archive will go away. I've no time to re-scan, trying to post them elsewhere since they've been seen and commented on already. So if you see my artwork or read my stories pictures may be gone.</p><p>++++</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

_En route to Paris from Picardy_

"I'm glad Treville gave us a short mission this time," Athos sent his brothers a slight smile. "I actually was surprised that we'd only be gone about five days max."

"Perhaps the captain's finally taken pity upon us and all those long missions he's sent us on," Aramis grinned. "A couple days ride to and from Picardy suits me just fine."

"Yeah," Porthos laughed, "I'll take these kind of assignments any day of the week."

"Athos, do you think we could stop at that inn up ahead for some refreshments?" Aramis gave his brother a pleading look.

"You do not have to put on that face, Aramis," Athos huffed. "I was thinking the same thing."

"Good cause I'm starved." When both of his friends began laughing at him, Porthos snorted. "If ya call what passed for food back in Picardy before we departed," he shook his head sadly at them, "ya both need your 'eads examined."

"Easy does it, mon frere," Aramis chuckled. "We are almost there."

++++

_Lands End Inn_

Approaching the inn, the inseparables noted several people running out of the building appearing rather distressed and flagging them down.

"Oh, Messieurs!" Madame Lavoie cried out to the Musketeers waving a towel in the air to get their attention. "Messieurs! We need your help!"

Dismounting, Athos strode over to the distraught woman. Judging by her age he addressed her as, "Madame.” At her nod Athos was pleased he had guessed correctly. Taking in the fear covering her face and that of a few others that rushed outside as well, Athos surmised something dire had just occurred. "What is the manner of the problem?"

"Malandrins robbed us and killed one of our good patrons!" Seeing her husband join her she let him take over.

"My wife and I are the proprietors of this inn," Monsieur Lavoie announced. "We were just about to serve lunch to our guests when those canailles struck."

"Then the robbery took place a few minutes before our arrival?" Aramis hadn't seen any signs of other men on horseback when they were in the area.

"Non, Messieurs,” Monsieur Lavoie wrung his hands. “About a half an hour ago.” He knew the anxiety he was feeling wasn't helping with his health issues, having already been admonished by his physician about taking things easier. It wouldn’t do his wife any good if he keeled over dead from a heart attack.

"Aramis and I could go check out the area ta see if'n they're still around," Porthos was ready to get back onto Roulette.

"Non," Athos shook his head at his brother. "It would be extremely foolish if they were. They are probably long gone by now." With a hand gesture indicating he wanted to enter the inn, Athos followed the Lavoies inside. "We're on our way back to Paris. As soon as we arrive at the Garrison I will inform our captain on what has transpired here."  Athos could see his words hadn't done anything to make the older couple feel any better. He didn't have time to sooth their fears, the best Athos could do was tell them what would happen now. "I know Captain Treville will send several units out here to track those men down."

"What do we do in the meantime?" Madame Lavoie glanced at her husband.

"Do, Madame?" Aramis wasn't quite sure what the woman meant by that.

"The body we have upstairs is that of Alexandre d'Artagnan," Madame Lavoie explained. "He is, or should I say was?" she began to cry softly. "He was from Lupiac in Gascony."

"A good patron," Monsieur Lavoie added gruffly. "Owned a farm and periodically would come to Paris to sell some of his leftover crops." His eyes were downcast, thinking upon losing Alexandre who had become a longtime friend.

"He was taking care of his wagon and horses in our stables when we were attacked," Madame Lavoie added. "That's where he was struck down."

"There's somethin' else they're not tellin' us," Porthos whispered from behind Athos' shoulder. After all these years as a Musketeer, Porthos could read the signs.

"Mmmmm," Athos hummed quietly. "I know they have another concern that appears to be unsettling them besides the obvious."

"Monsieur d'Artagnan was a widower with a petit garcon, three years of age," Madame Lavoie dabbed at her eyes with her towel. "Not having anyone to watch Charles, Monsieur would bring him along on his trips."

"Then the petit is here?" Athos exchanged worried looks with his comrades.

"I have him with my youngest daughter playing in her room," Madame was nearly beside herself, gazing into her husband’s distressed features.

"Does the garcon not have any other relations back in Lupiac that you could send for?" Athos thought it was impossible for there not be any famille to take care of the toddler.

"Non," Madame Lavoie said. "It was always just Monsieur d'Artagnan and his son."

"We can't take him in ourselves," Monsieur Lavoie remarked. "Not having six children of our own already. Another mouth to feed just might break us," taking the towel from his wife's hands, he dried the sweat trickling down his face.

"Athos," Porthos poked his brother in the back, "kid's got no one now."

"Oui," Athos blinked at him curiously. "And so?"

"We take 'im back with us ta Paris is what," Porthos noted Aramis giving him a _are you kidding_ look. "Oui, Mis, ya ‘eard me right."

"I know what you said, there’s nothing wrong with my hearing last time I checked," Aramis huffed, "I just can't believe you voiced it."

"May we see Charles," Athos figured they might as well take a look at the petit orphan before coming to a decision.

"I'll go fetch him," Madame Lavoie scurried away, taking the stairs leading to her daughter's room.

"Ya know this d'Artagnan’s farm belongs ta the kid now," Porthos knew that it really wasn't any of their business but he put it out there anyway.

"The child's only three," Athos pointed out, "what do you expect him to do... _push a plow_?"

"Ya know sometimes, Athos," Porthos growled, "ya can be a right pain." Hearing Aramis laughing in the background, Porthos turned on him. "What's your problem?"

Holding up his hands in surrender, Aramis’ laughter died down to chuckles. But his mirth quickly fled when sounds of footsteps coming down the stairs signaled the return of Madame.

Holding in her arms an adorable looking garcon, Madame Lavoie walked over to the Musketeers. "Messieurs," she smiled, placing a kiss to the back of the petit's head, "let me introduce you to Charles d’Artagnan."

All three men simply stared in awe at the sweet features of the petit Gascon who curiously studied them in turn. Long brown hair hung down just brushing his shoulders. His olive complexion was kissed by the sun, which told them that Charles spent a lot of his time outdoors. The toddler smiled tentatively at them, then offered them a toothy grin when Aramis winked at him.

"Does he know what happened to his pere?" Athos kept staring into those soft, doe eyes of the petit’s.

"Non," Madame glanced at the garcon sadly. "We felt it better not to tell him," she shrugged. "Charles may not have understood anyway."

"Where's papa?" Having heard the reference to his father, Charles head swiveled around the room looking for his parent. Not seeing him his lower lip began quivering. "I want my papa!" he demanded.

"Shoosh, mon petit," Athos crooned, immediately holding out his arms to relieve Madame Lavoie of her burden.

Mouths falling open in shock Aramis and Porthos observed this change of personality, in their normally stoic leader, in wonder. They were of like minds thinking perhaps their friend had been switched on them during the journey home.

"Knew 'e 'ad it in 'im the whole time," Porthos grinned.

"Glad one of us thought that," Aramis continued to watch while Athos kept crooning to the garcon. Amazingly enough the toddler ceased his sniffling.

"We'll take Charles back with us to Paris," Athos didn't dare look at his friends, knowing they'd both be wearing broad smirks. Instead his attention focused on the proprietors once more. "I would assume to run a farm that Monsieur d'Artagnan had several retainers working for him. So once we arrive back at the Garrison I'll have someone contact them and find out what can be done about it," he nodded at Aramis. "If you would be so kind as to give my brother the particulars I would be grateful."

“Of course,” Monsieur Lavoie vigorously agreed. Glad to have that responsibility taken off his hands at least. Not that he would have minded, but with everything that had just happened Lavoie didn't think he was up to the task.

Afta we settle things ‘ere,” Porthos glanced at the petit who clung to Athos' neck, “we’ll check over Monsieur d'Artagnan's body just ta make sure those cut-purses didn't leave behind any clues. Then perhaps ya could see fit ta givin’ ‘im a proper burial.”

“We’ll gladly make those arrangements,” Madame Lavoie shared a long look with her husband, knowing they silently agreed on doing this for their old friend.

"Da ya think before we leave we could get somethin’ ta eat?" Porthos' stomach chose that moment to growl quite annoyingly.

"Speaking of eating," Athos smiled down at the petit who remained quiet in his arms, "has Charles had anything?"

"I was about to make something for him and his pere but..." Madame Lavoie's eyes began to tear up again.

"Understandable," Aramis murmured soothingly. "Since there's nothing more we can do for the moment perhaps you would be so kind as to prepare something for us and young Charles?"

Wiping her eyes she nodded, grateful to be doing something productive. "I'll show you all what's on today's menu."

Hearing Porthos' laughter, Aramis turned around to stare dumbfounded at the picture Athos and Charles presented. This was something to remember and to tease his older brother about later. It would appear that Athos had relinquished his chapeau to the petit toddler. Overlarge, it swamped the child's head. Still, Charles dimpled adorably whenever he peeked out from underneath it to look up at Athos.

"I think we've found a fourth, Mis," Porthos brushed shoulders against his friend.

Removing his own chapeau, Aramis glanced ruefully at his brother. "Do you know how old all of us would be by the time the Charles could even train to become one of us?" Even though he said that to Porthos, Aramis had a similar thought about thinking it would be nice to have a petit around the Garrison. Who knew? Perhaps, in time, Charles would eventually join their ranks of brotherhood. Though what Captain Treville would say about having a toddler underfoot would be a whole other story to think upon much later.

"So," Porthos' dark eyes twinkled, "we could root from the sidelines while someone else trained the whelp," he chuckled. "Though I don't know about you, mon ami," Porthos winked at Aramis, "I plan ta still be swaggerin' around well inta my forties. Pretty sure I'll be able ta teach Charles a thing or two by then."

"You're incorrigible," Aramis swatted him with his chapeau.

"Nah," Porthos grinned. "That would be the kid's department."

Looking over the garcon's head, Athos frowned at his two friends. "Are you quite done planning Charles' future?"

"Have you given your chapeau permanently to the garcon," Aramis' amused expression wasn't lost on the older man.

Ignoring him, Athos tapped Charles on the nose. "Are you hungry? Because I know I am. Hopefully Madame Lavoie will have something yummy for you."

Whispering between themselves, Aramis couldn't believe his ears. "Did Athos just say _yummy_?"

"Mon Dieu!" Porthos' shoulders were shaking from his mirth. "Captin' ain't gonna believe this when we tell 'im." He was about to tease Athos, but from the delicious aroma wafting throughout the dining area Porthos knew their meal was being served.

Producing a few cushions for Charles to sit upon, Monsieur Lavoie placed them on the chair. Seeing puzzled looks bestowed upon him by the Musketeers, he explained. "The petit is at that age where he refuses to sit in a highchair and the only way for him to eat properly at the table is to add some extra padding to the chairs to get him on level with the table."

"Ah!" Aramis nodded in approval. "I don't really blame Charles. Highchairs could be the very devil."

"And how would you know?" Athos smirked. "You would have been too young to remember such an occurrence."

Opening his mouth to respond, Aramis quickly snapped it shut. Deciding instead to enjoy the steak Madame had prepared.

"Can I have that?" Charles pointed to Athos' steak, frowning as the stranger shook his head at him.

"Your plate has a variety of peas, cheese and fruit to fill you up," Athos smiled down at the toddler, while cutting into his steak. He nearly gave in, against his better judgment, at the sight of that sweet pout Charles gave him.

"That's so unfair," Porthos remarked. "How are we ta say non ta a face like that I ask ya?"

"I'm about to capitulate," Aramis grinned. "What about you, Athos?"

"Charles cannot have a piece of my steak," Athos snapped. "Tis to thick for the child to eat."

"Cut it up inta smaller pieces," Porthos suggested. "Doesn't take a genius ta figure that one out."

Feeling foolish, Athos blushed slightly. "Well perhaps a tidbit would not go amiss." Cutting a tiny section of steak for Charles, Athos put it on the garcon's plate. "But I want you to eat up everything else on your plate too."

"I will," Charles beamed up at him. But things didn't quite go the way he wanted them too. Popping the piece of steak into his mouth, Charles forgot to chew. Instead he swallowed it down whole and began to choke **.**

None of the Musketeers at first paid much attention, but it was Porthos that noticed the child's face turning bright red. "Athos, somethin's not right with the kid?"

Scraping his chair back, Athos jumped out of his seat. "Mere de Dieu! He's choking!"

Getting up so fast his chair tilted over, Porthos got behind where Charles sat. Before either Aramis or Athos could react, Porthos thumped the toddler a few times, in quick succession, on the back. Sure enough the offending object flew straight out of Charles' mouth to land on the floor.

"Any harder and you could have injured him," Athos scowled.

"If'n I waited for ya two ta do anythin' the kid might have croaked," Porthos countered.

While his two brothers snapped at each other, Aramis tended to Charles. "How do you feel?"

"Still hungry?" Charles went right back to eating again as if nothing had ever happened. If he wondered why they stood there staring down at him in that odd way, bien Charles paid them no heed.

"The resilliance of youth," Athos commented dryly sitting back down to his lunch again.

"This could be what's in our future if we keep Charles," Aramis sipped his wine.

"Who said we're keeping him?" Athos kept on eating, occasionally stopping to make sure Charles didn't play with more of his food. Apparently the petit found that cheese made the perfect projectile as Athos observed the toddler throw pieces of it, with perfect accuracy, at his two brothers.

"No famille, Athos," Porthos reminded him, while putting the cubes of cheese back on Charles' plate.

"Treville will more than likely find one that would love to take Charles in," Athos wondered why the thought of turning the petit garcon over to someone else's care bothered him so.

"Porthos and I agree that Charles belongs with us," Aramis announced proudly. "You're outvoted on this one, mon frere."

"I am, am I?" Athos bent his head to whisper in Charles' pink-tipped ear.

"Mmmmm," Aramis hummed. "Wonder what Athos just told him."

Snickering, Porthos leaned in close to his brother. "Whatever it was the kid's decided that Athos looks good with peas in his hair."

Seeing amusement dance across their faces at Athos' expense, he picked up Charles' spoon to scoop some peas into it. Flicking it at his comrades Athos let the petit join in. Soon it developed into a food fight.

When Madame Lavoie came back to check on them she clucked to herself seeing food strewn all over the table and oui, all over the Musketeers and Charles as well. Sighing, Madame gave them a severe look. "I will pack extra food for you to take on your trip for Charles since he played with most of his."

"I think she's a bit upset with us," Aramis stated.

Watching her head back to the kitchen, Porthos threw his napkin onto the table. "Not exactly how I thought our meal would end."

"Gentlemen," Athos drawled, getting up, "I think tis time for us to depart."

++++

Before leaving, Aramis and Porthos went upstairs to examine the deceased but in a short time they came back empty handed. Which left Athos to settle up with the Lavoies. Then he gave Charles a piggyback ride to the stable where their horses were kept.

Contentedly Charles sat in front of Athos, though he reluctantly gave up the chapeau back to its original owner. "Could I have one like that?"

Bendng his head down, Athos spoke into the garcon's ear. "I'll have to find you one that fits." Hearing the childish giggling that followed, Athos broke out into a smile feeling all was right in his world.

"What promises are you making over there?" Aramis was more than amused with the change in Athos' demeanor. That petit was going to melt hearts all throughout the Garrison. His own heart had melted at first sight and Aramis knew so had Porthos'.

"We're adoptin' the kid right?" Porthos smiled into Charles' gamin features.

"Porthos," Athos sighed, " _three Musketeers and a bébé_... really?" he arched both brows.

"Considerin' the way you've been cuddlin' that kid I thought that's what we was gonna do?"

"We have to see what Treville recommends first," Athos' tone told the other man to let it be for now.

"If'n the captin' don't see it our way," Porthos grinned at Charles who was currently sucking his thumb while Athos waged war trying to take that errant finger out of the toddler's mouth, "we'll put the vote up ta the kid."

Dropping his reins, Aramis clapped his hands together. "Now that's a plan!" Noting that Athos appeared to be losing the _battle of the thumb_ campaign Aramis chirped, "Would you like me to try?"

Throwing Aramis a dirty look, Athos gave up and let Charles have his way for now. Secretly he hoped that Treville would let them keep the toddler. It was amazing really how fast the petit Gascon had tugged on his heart strings. Tis to be hoped that the child would have the same effect on their captain.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to add this. For those that didn't see it. Go back to chapter 1 for Elenduen's picture she made me for this story. I had trouble at first and it had disappeared on me. Now it's stable. LOL!  
> This chapter basically sets up Treville meeting the petit Gascon.  
> And also having to explain to Charles that his pere has died. So a possible hanky warning toward the end of this chapter may be called for.  
> Anything you see on how it was explained to the toddler about death came off several websites I looked up and took ideas and some of what they said down to use. Especially for 3 year olds. They also said that at that age they're supposed to understand what it death truly means. Any moms out there that disagree I hold my hands up in surrender as I am not married and have no children and am only going by what I read. I didn't ask Marg for advice on this part and winged it.
> 
> ++++

_Two days later - Garrison, Outside Captain Treville's office_

For reasons unknown, Aramis stayed outside on the balcony cuddling petit Charles. He left the explanations up to Athos and Porthos, staying safely out of Treville's reach.

"Where did they go?" Charles played with the feather in Aramis' chapeau.

"To speak with our captain, mon garcon," Aramis' hand tangled in the child's long hair. "I see a haircut in your future."

" _NON!_ " Charles yelled. "Like it long."

Apparently the toddler knew his own mind. Aramis would have to make a point of it tell his brothers not to come near the petit pup with a pair of scissors anytime soon.

++++

_Inside Captain Treville's office_

"You brought back _WHAT!_ " Treville roared. His bellow nearly rocked the room he was that angry.

"Sir," Porthos noted the crimson tinge to Athos' face which usually meant that his brother's temper was about to surface. So he figured that stepping in now would save them all a lot of heartache and probably their commissions as well. "We 'ad no choice." He then proceeded into a lengthy explanation of what led up to them bringing Charles back with them.

Moaning quietly from behind his desk, Treville's head laid down on top of his folded arms. When he dared to lift it back up his two men still stood there. Realizing he hadn't just had a bad dream, Treville winced, knowing he had heard correctly about the petit gift they brought back with them. "There is no one else to take the garcon in?"

"Not according to the innkeepers who knew Monsieur d'Artagnan quite well." Athos wasn't sure he could endure another outburst from Treville without his own tongue running away with him.

"Nothing for it I guess but to place the petit in our local orphanage," Treville gazed shrewdly into his lieutenant's eyes and could see that his words did not set well with Athos. "You have a better idea I gather," he remarked dryly. He should have been used to it by now. Somehow it always managed to surprise him when the inseparables overruled something he had proposed and went about things in their own haphazard style. For the most part, things usually turned all right in the end. It was those few times when they didn't that worried him greatly.

His eyes slid toward Porthos and at the bigger man's nod Athos told his captain of their request. "Aramis, Porthos and I would like to raise Charles ourselves."

Sticking a finger in his ear, Treville shook his head thinking he had heard wrongly. "I don't believe I got that part right," he closed his eyes for a brief second.  Oh let me have heard Athos wrong he moaned silently. Taking a deep breath, Treville voiced a question that he never thought he'd find himself asking the inseparables. "Did you say all three of you want to take in this petit Gascon?"

When both men nodded their agreement, Treville pinched the bridge of his nose. "That nightmare I had must have been a premonition," he grumbled. "Pray tell how you're going to take care of a three year old child when you're all bloody Musketeers!" he shouted, his voice growing ever louder as his Gascon temper took hold. Slamming his hand down forcefully on his desk he added, "You can hardly take care of yourselves when it comes down to it!"

"We'll find a way ta make it work for us," Porthos boasted with all the confidence he could muster.

"Tis the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," Treville's eyes zeroed in on Athos. "And believe you me," he stabbed a finger in the air, "where you three are concerned I thought I've heard them all."

++++

_Back outside Treville's office_

When Aramis heard the captain's anger, he felt like taking Charles back to his apartments and wait for Treville to cool down.

"That man hollered like papa," Charles innocently remarked.

With a rueful shake of his head Aramis said, "Tis because they're both Gascons." Looking down upon the top of Charle's head, his heart swelled with love. He chuckled when the toddler got tired of playing with the feather and switched to tugging on Aramis' beard. "Easy does it now," he grabbed at the poppet's busy fingers. "I know it needs trimmed but plucking them out that way tends to hurt."

Pouting, Charles stared into warm brown, laughing eyes. Then he wrapped his arms around Aramis' neck, placing his head on the man's shoulder.

Hand gliding smoothly through the youngster's hair, Aramis sighed. "I know tis been a trying time and you probably need another nap." Feeling tiny puffs of breath against his neck, Aramis clucked. He didn't know if he should leave now, with his precious bundle, or stay and wait for his brothers to make an appearance. The sound of the door creaking open had Aramis' head jerking to the left. Seeing Porthos waving him inside he hesitated glancing down at the petit garcon in his arms.

"Captin' gotta see the whelp, Mis," Porthos could tell that the child looked all in. It was his hope that once Treville took a good look at Charles that he'd let them keep the kid.

As soon as Aramis stepped inside the room he tightened his grip on the petit. It was if he feared the captain would whisk Charles away and never give him back.

Coming from around his desk Treville sat on its edge, arms folded and face severe. "May I see him?" The youngster's head was buried in Aramis' shoulder, only giving Treville a glimpse of longish brown hair.

Whispering something to Charles, Aramis set him down facing the captain. Giving the toddler's derierre a light pat, Aramis urged the garcon forward.

Thumb creeping back up close to his mouth, Charles was an inch away from sucking on it until he heard a voice loudly clearing his throat. Turning his head slightly, Charles peered over his shoulder and saw Athos shaking his head at him. "Papa does that a lot," he grinned impishly, thumb momentarily forgotten.

"Kid's gotta be told soon, Athos," Porthos whispered.

"Tis not the time now," Athos all but snapped.

Observing what just took place between his lieutenant and the garcon, Treville could see that an attachment had already formed. Watching the inseparables carefully, Treville knew he'd have a fight on his hands were he to take this petit from them.

Kneeling down in front of the child, Treville gazed into Charle's chocolate colored orbs and his own heart was caught. Picking the toddler up, Treville placed him standing on his desk. "What are we going to do with you, eh?" he mumbled under his breath.

"Will papa know where I am?"

"Will your..." Treville once again thought his hearing had let him down. Swiftly walking over to his men, he stabbed each one with a fierce scowl that usually had left young recruits shaking in their boots. "He doesn't know his pere's dead?" Treville hissed.

"It didn't feel right back there ta dump it on the kid," Porthos gruffly admitted.

Shrugging, glancing anywhere but at Treville, Aramis said, "Hasn't been an appropriate chance yet."

"You call nearly a two day journey getting back here not having an _appropriate chance_?" Treville tried to keep his voice low so not to scare the petit garcon.

"We were going to take care of the matter once Charles got settled into his new home," Athos stared straight ahead, not daring to look his captain in the face.

"Fine!" Treville stomped back over to his desk, lifted the child down and glared at him. "Why do I get the feeling you're going to prove more troublesome than those three combined?" he pointed over at his men.

"Papa says trouble always finds me," Charles giggled delightfully, thinking what he said was pretty funny.

Closing their eyes, the inseparables hung their heads down at the petit's admission.

"Exactly what I didn't need to hear," Treville groaned. Not wanting his men to have an inkling of his own feelings, he hid behind gruff words. Truth was that, at first sight of the young one, Treville's resolve weakened. Listening to the garcon's charming giggles well that pretty much sealed the deal for him. Knowing his men were sweating his decision out, Treville's brows drew together.

"Oh, oh," Porthos nudged Aramis in the ribs. "When the captin' looks like that we're in for it."

"I'm curious as to how you think you're going to be able to manage this," Treville noted how Charles shuffled closer to Athos' side.

"We talked it over and figured that each of us would take turns having Charles stay at our places whenever one of us is on duty or away on a mission," Athos explained.

"What happens when all of you are called out on assignment together?" Got you on that one, boys.

Looking at one another, it was clear to see that the inseparables hadn't factored that part in.

"I can really see how well thought out your plan was, gents," Treville rubbed at his temple that had begun to throb in time with a headache that threatened to blossom. "I have the perfect solution for all of you if you care to hear it."

"By all means," Aramis wondered how _perfect_ it would turn out to be.

"Constance just the other day was complaining how boring her life had become," Treville chuckled. "I don't suppose she'd mind watching Charles for you from time to time."

"See," Aramis laughed, "tis why he's the captain," he clapped his hands together.

"I would never have guessed," Athos commented drolly.

"Since you've given me the d'Artagnan's address I'll write to his retainers and wait upon an answer," he reached for his quill and some paper. "In the meantime I'll send out two units to see if they can flush out those malandrins."

"Sir," Athos stepped forward, "in your missive could you ask them to send over Charle's personal belongings, clothes and such. I'm sure having familiar things around him would make the petit feel more comfortable in his new surroundings."

"First thing that made sense to me since you walked into my office," Treville jabbed his quill into the ink blotter. "Now off with the lot of you and get Charles settled in."

++++

"Bien," Aramis grinned," that went better than expected. I mean we didn't get booted out of the Musketeers."

"Was there some doubt?" Athos' blue eyes sparkled with amusement.

"Are we gonna draw straws or somethin' ta see who the kid stays with first?" Porthos held tightly to Charle's hand because the imp kept wanting to follow a stray chat that called the Garrison home.

"Athos," Aramis leaned in close to his brother, "would you rather I explain to Charles about his pere?"

Grimacing, Athos placed a hand on top of the toddler's head. A slow smile spread over his features. Charles was still trying to pull free from Porthos to chase after that stray. "I am not good with words and would probably end up making a hash of it. You are a much better choice if you do not mind?"

"I find it no hardship," Aramis observed the ongoing struggle between the garcon and Porthos.

"Guess that answered my question of where our pup's bunkin' first." Wishing that chat anywhere but in their vicinity, Porthos ended picking up the squirming moppet's body because he was afraid that Charles would get loose. Then they'd have a devil of a time catching him.

Relieving Porthos of his charge, Aramis swung the toddler up on his back. He remembered how much Charles enjoyed doing the same with Athos. "Perhaps one of you could arrange to have a snack made up for our petit pup."

"One problem down," Porthos waved at the child who kept looking over his shoulder at him and Athos, while Aramis headed for home. "I'm right glad Aramis volunteered ta explain things ta the whelp," he gazed after them thoughtfully. "I ain't any better at words than ya are."

Acknowledging his friend's remark with a dip of his head Athos said, "I better go see if Serge could be persuaded to prepare something for Charles." About to head for the Garrison kitchen, he paused upon hearing his brother's deep bark of laughter. Raising a brow, Athos waited to find out what Porthos found so amusing.

"Serge," Porthos chuckled, "wait til 'e meets the kid."

Lips quirking upward, Athos understood what his brother meant. "A match made in heaven, eh?"

"Or 'ell," Porthos was still laughing. "Goin' by what the whelp told us that he finds trouble."

"Ah, mon frere," Athos corrected, "the petit said _trouble_ finds him."

"Either way, I can just see Charles causin' Serge's 'air ta fall out."

"You have that wrong, Porthos," Athos rolled his eyes. "That would be us I'm afraid," he added tongue in cheek.

"And probably the captin' ta boot," Porthos clapped Athos on the shoulder. "While ya see ta the food I'll go in search of a few toys for the kid ta play with til 'is things come from Lupiac."

++++

_Aramis' apartments_

It couldn't be put off any longer. On the way to his place Charles had badgered him about his pere. The toddler was under the impression that his parent would be joining them. Where the petit garcon got that idea in his head, Aramis wasn't sure. Finding a chair, he sat down and lifted the pup onto his lap. "Charles, I have to tell you something about your pere."

"He'll be here soon?" Charle's eyes lit up in anticipation of his papa's arrival.

It broke Aramis' heart to speak of death to one so young. He was beginning to think that he should have left it up to Athos to handle, as his own resolve was weakening. "Do you remember the inn we left?"

"Oui," Charles nodded. "We go there all the time," he tilted his head to the side studying Aramis and wondering why he suddenly appeared so sad. "Why?"

"Something happened to your pere while you were both there."

Being only three didn't mean Charles was oblivious to things happening around him. The lack of his papa's presence being one of them. So upon hearing Aramis' words his lower lip began to quiver while tears filled his eyes. "Papa?"

"I'm sorry, Charles, but your pere's gone," seeing the toddler's tears spill over Aramis hugged the garcon close. "Mon petit, mon petit," he crooned softly. "Rest easy knowing that while your pere is no longer on Earth with you that he's living with the angels in heaven and will forever be watching over you," Aramis rested his chin on top of the youngster's head.

Knuckling his eyes, Charles hiccuped. "Don't want papa in heaven... want him with me."

Wincing, Aramis tried to quickly think up a satisfactory reply. "We would have wished that for you as well," he wiped at more tears that continuously slid down the toddler's face. "But be glad your pere isn't suffering as his spirit went up to heaven to be with God."

"I miss him," Charles buried his face in Aramis' shirt.

"Tis all right to be sad because you're going to miss him very much," Aramis tapped Charles on the nose. "Remember your pere's soul and memory will always remain within you," he touched the garcon's heart.

Sniffing, Charles pulled his face away to stare up at Aramis. "Who will be my papa now?"

Having heard the door open and close earlier, Aramis looked over the moppet's head as Porthos and Athos stood frozen there. Turning Charle's head to the side, so the petit could see them, Aramis smiled. "What say you to having three papas?"


	3. Chapter 3

_Several days later, late evening - Porthos apartments_

"That was a nice thing you did, Porthos," Athos observed Aramis and Charles both playing with the petit enfant's wooden toy soldiers.

"I figured our kid should 'ave somethin' that belonged to 'is own pere," Porthos laughed out loud when Charles threw his soldier at Aramis in what appeared to be a fit of peak. "Eh, Mis, ya better watch it. Charle's got good aim for a whelp 'is size."

"Then he'll make a great marksman one day like me," Aramis grinned and began chasing Charles all over the place. The petit's childish giggling filled the room, and Aramis heard his brother's snorts of amusement.

"When Mis and I were checkin' over Monsieur d'Artagnan's body I noticed the cross he was wearin'," Porthos exchanged a sad look with Athos. "Figured the kid would 'ave wanted it."

Both men noted the cross now hanging from around Charle's neck. It swung wildly as the petit tried to hide from Aramis.

Figuring papa Athos would protect him Charles Jumped into his lap, giggling even more at the 'oompf' sound his papa made. "Papa Thos," he cuddled up to him, "did I hurt you?"

"Only my pride, petit," Athos kissed the top of Charle's head.

"Papa Porth," Charles wriggled out of his safe haven to climb onto his other papa's lap. His thumb was heading toward his mouth but didn't quite reach its destination when papa Porthos grabbed his hand. Pouting, Charles glared up at him.

"Our pup didn't like that," Aramis chuckled, catching his breath. Noting the huge yawn Charles let out, he knew it was past the garcon's bedtime. "Here let me do the honors this time, Porthos." Taking Charles from his brother Aramis headed for the extra bedroom with the toddler's head resting on his shoulder, half asleep already.

Removing the petit's clothes, Aramis dressed Charles in a cute nightshirt just the pup's size that Constance had given them. It was to be hoped that when the lad's things arrived from Lupiac there would be other articles of clothing to help them get by for a time. Settling the youngster under the covers, Aramis leaned over and kissed Charles on the forehead.

Patting Aramis' cheek, Charles turned on his side. "Night, night, papa Mis."

"Sweet dreams, petit," Aramis quietly closed the door behind him.

Pouring a substantial amount of wine in a glass for Aramis, Porthos handed it to him. "Figured you'd be pooped out from all that runnin' ya did chasin' the kid."

"Merci, mon ami," Aramis smiled gratefully. "Didn't know being a papa was such hard work."

"And think," Athos snorted, "tis just the beginning.," he joined his brothers in a drink as well.

Barely a half an hour went past when the quietness of the evening was interrupted by Charle's loud screams.

Throwing down the book he had been reading Athos was the first one into the bedroom, quickly followed by a pale looking Aramis. Porthos appeared frightened out of his wits, stumbling into the room and nearly knocking Aramis down in the process. The three men surrounded Charle's bed, helplessly watching the petit enfant curled up whimpering.

Sitting on the bed, Athos gathered the garcon up and began rocking the petit back and forth. Porthos began gently rubbing up and down on Charle's back, while Aramis ran his fingers lightly through the youngster's hair. "Shoosh, young one. Nothing is going to happen as long as you have the three of us to protect you."

"Papa!" Charles sniffed, tears starting to roll down his cheeks, "want my papa!"

Scratching his head, Porthos frowned at his friends. "I don't think the pup's talkin' about any of us."

"Have either of you noticed that this is the third night in a row Charles woke up crying out for his pere?" Aramis folded his arms and quietly studied the tear drenched face of their son. There he said it, if only in his own mind. It felt strange to think of Charles as his own but not of his loins. But it also felt just as right. The moppet fit them like a hand in a glove.

"Oui," Athos hugged Charles tightly until the child's hiccups died away. Gently removing the clingy arms, Athos put the garcon back under the covers. "Try to sleep. We will stay here with you til then."

Eyes wide open, Charles looked at his three papas. "Promise?"

"Promise," Athos smiled, tapping Charle's wee nose.

"Promise," Aramis repeated, beginning to run his fingers through the toddler's hair again.

"Aye," Porthos grunted, "ya got my promise too, kid." When he went to tickle Charle's foot, the petit pulled it back giggling. But it wasn't long afterwards when the whelp's lids began to droop, Morpheus finally claiming him.

Thinking back upon the subject of Charle's interrupted sleep patterns, Aramis slapped his forehead.

"Ya might 'urt your brain that way, Mis," Porthos chuckled quietly, not wanting Charles to wake up.

"It just came to me why our garcon gets so upset after we put him to bed," Aramis went to sit beside his two brothers.

"Bien," Porthos grumbled, "spit it out will ya before we grow old sittin' 'ere."

"Where has Charles been sleeping?" Aramis quizzed them.

"Don't you know?" Porthos threw back as if Aramis were the village idiot. And the jury was still out on that one as far as Porthos was concerned.

Rolling his eyes, Aramis looked ready to box Porthos' ears.

"Charles spent his first night with me," Aramis exchanged a long look with Athos.

"I took him for the second night," Athos' forehead wrinkled in concentration, uncertain what Aramis was leading up to, then it began to dawn on him.

When he saw comprehension in the older man's eyes, Aramis was satisfied he had gotten his point across.

"I got Charles last," Porthos noted his two friends appeared to have come to an understanding over this mystery. "Let me in on it cause I got nothin'."

"Our pup's lost his true pere," Aramis observed their petit poppet's thumb creep back into his mouth. "Instead of making Charles feel secure we've done the complete opposite."

"Ya lost me, Mis," Porthos shook his head.

"Porthos, the point Aramis is making has to do with the fact that we've shuffled that child between three different homes," Athos sighed. He needed a swift kick in the ass for his bad judgment. Why didn't he think of that first? Out of all three of them, he had the oldest head. Apparently being older did not make one wiser.

"Ain't I one for bein' slow on the uptake?" Porthos grunted. " _Security_ , that's what we 'aven't givin' the whelp," he looked intently at Athos for the answer as did Aramis.

Throwing up his hands, Athos stood up. "Charles is finally asleep," he whispered, motioning toward the door for them to leave.

++++

Once back outside in the main room, Athos began pacing the floor. "I will have to start looking for a larger set of apartments where all of us can reside." He stared at his brothers, not sure if they were going to agree or not with his idea. "If security is what Charle's needs, and it appears that he does, our pup will need all of us together. Not breezing in and out of each others homes," Athos hung his head, shame filling him.

"Tis fine with me," Aramis smiled. "I never take my lady friends back to my place anyway."

"Parbleu!" Porthos glared at the marksman, "give it a rest." He made a rude hand gesture at his younger brother. "One track mind. I tell ya," he jeered contemptuously.

"Hmmpf!" Aramis was rather miffed at that. "If you got it... flaunt it I always say," he grinned like a Cheshire cat.

Trying to ignore Aramis' boasting, Athos knew the bigger man enjoyed his own space. "How are you with this arrangement, Porthos?" 

"If'n ya get us a place where I won't be bumpin' inta everythin'," Porthos grunted, "I'm good."

"We can all pool our resources together," Aramis announced. "Since we won't be paying for our own places separately now, this should enable Athos to acquire a sizeable home."

"Maybe tis what we should do," Athos drew his brothers in close, with a hand on each of their arms. "A house... not just a bigger apartment."

Grinning at each other like a couple of loons, Porthos and Aramis nodded in agreement.

"Good," Athos reached for his unfinished wine. "We have guard duty in the palace tomorrow. Perhaps after that I can go take a look outside of the city to see what is available."

"Perhaps Porthos and I could go as well," Aramis noted the frown covering Athos' features at his suggestion. "Not a good idea?"

"Who will watch Charles in the meantime?" After posing that question, Athos realized who the perfect person for babysitting duties was.

All three of them were on the same page, voicing their thoughts at once. " _CONSTANCE!_ "

"Oy!" Porthos frowned. "She may not want ta give our kid back ta us."

Chuckling, Aramis threw his arm around his friend. "You know Athos and I would never let that happen."

"I know Constance a slight more better than ya do," Porthos growled. "She loves kids."

"We could always share Charles with her," Athos surprised himself at his words. "Bien," he shrugged, "we all know that when our duty calls us to be away, Constance will be the one to take care of Charles for us."

"See, mon frere," Aramis still was amused at the worry Porthos carried, "our pup will have the best of both worlds."

"Tis correct," Athos nodded. "Three papa bears and Goldilocks."

"Didn't _Goldy_ 'ave blonde 'air?" Porthos' eyebrows shot up.

Rolling his eyes, Aramis glared at him. "In our case Goldilocks has titian."

"Mes amis," Athos fetched his chapeau, "we have an early call on the morrow I suggest we turn in." He and Aramis quickly left, leaving Porthos in charge of their youngest.

++++

_Next day, Royal Palace - throne room_

"Where's Charles?" Porthos whispered to Aramis. The latter shook his head, making Porthos become agitated in the extreme. "You were supposed ta 'ave the whelp with ya."

"I thought you were," Aramis fired back, remembering to keep his voice down otherwise he'd suffer Captain Treville's wrath.

"Are you telling me," Athos hissed, "Charles is missing?"

The inseparables froze when Captain Treville uttered their pup's name, and not in a good way.

"Mon Dieu, Charles!" Treville wondered if there would be a position he could apply elsewhere in France. Because he saw his commission flying out the window as the petit Gascon sat his rear-end down upon King Louis' throne.

++++

Talking to one of his ministers, King Louis' back was turned away from dais. Upon dismissing the man, he went to sit down. Utterly surprised, to say the least, King Louis suppressed a laugh. Sitting there, as to the manner born, was the cutest petit enfant that he had ever seen. Clearing his throat, King Louis approached the garcon. "May I ask who you are?"

"Charles, sir." Staring wide-eyed at the richly dressed man in front of him, he wondered who it was. "What's your name?"

Pointing to himself, King Louis choked out, "What tis my..." he couldn't finish, he really couldn't. Covering his mouth, King Louis tried to stifle his mirth. Judging the petit to be no more than three or four years of age, the lad could be easily forgiven for not knowing who his monarch was. It was how the child came to be here that concerned King Louis the most. Not knowing if the youngster would understand what he was about to tell him, King Louis announced, "I am the king of France."

"Oui," Charles chewed his lip, still not satisfied with that answer, "but tis not a name."

Smiling, King Louis bent down and plucked Charles out of the chair to sit upon his lap. "You are correct," he grinned. "You may call me Louis."

Tilting his head up to look into the nice man's face, Charles giggled. "I like it."

Lips quirking upward, King Louis indicated for his old fox to approach. "So do I, petit."

Before His Majesty could give him a thorough dressing down, Treville bowed quickly and opened his mouth to speak.

"Non, Treville," King Louis held tight to the garcon, "I'm not interested in excuses just explanations if you would." Then he frowned upon seeing his inseparables rush to stand before him. "I do not recall asking any of you to approach."

"Sire," Athos stepped forward, "tis my fault."

"Our fault," Aramis corrected.

"Yeah, we shoulda kept a better eye on the kid," Porthos added.

"Now I am really confused," King Louis bent down to whisper in Charle's ear. "Aren't you confused to?"

Giggling again, Charles shook his head. "They're my papas."

Always one for a good story, King Louis was quite interested in this tale. His three best Musketeers being claimed by this petit enfant. "Enlighten me, gentlemen. Mmmmm."

"Your Majesty," Treville started to get out then snapped his mouth shut when the king held up his hand for silence.

"I want to hear it from them, Treville," King Louis nodded in the direction of his soldiers, "since it is those three the toddler calls pere."

At this juncture, Athos figured none of them had anything to lose so he'd tried to make it as short and sweet as he could. "On our way back from our latest mission the inn we came across had been hit by malandrins. Killing one of the patrons who happened to be Charle's pere."

"Were those men apprehended?" King Louis looked at his old fox this time for the answer.

"Units have been dispatched and have yet to return, sire," Treville swallowed hard wondering if he still had his captaincy.

"Mmmmm," King Louis hummed, waving his hand at Athos to continue.

"The man's name was Alexandre d'Artagnan from Lupiac in Gascony," Athos explained further. "The innkeepers knew him quite well and informed us that there wasn't anyone else who could take Charles in," Athos glanced at Aramis and was grateful when his brother took over.

"We questioned the innkeepers thoroughly on the matter and since they insisted Charles was all alone now," Aramis shrugged, "we figured taking him back to Paris with us was a good idea."

"Then the more we got ta know the petit imp," Porthos winked at the whelp, "the more we fell under 'is spell."

"I was in Gascony once," King Louis remarked. "Nothing but hedges and sheep, if I recall." Tickling the toddler under his chin, King Louis laughed along with Charles. "So all three of you have decided to raise him as your own?"

"Tis about it in a nutshell, sire," Athos said. "Today was a fluke though. We were going to have Constance, Her Majesty's seamstress, look after him but none of us knew she went to visit some relatives outside of Paris."

Bouncing Charles on his knee, King Louis' eyes crinkled up in the corners as he smiled in delight. "I love children," he admitted. "Charles is welcome anytime in the palace. Whether or not Her Majesty or myself is here." Lifting the lad from his perch, King Louis handed the child off to Captain Treville. "I have a feeling it won't take the petit long in having my staff answer to him instead of to me."

"Our thanks, Your Majesty, for your kindness to Charles," Athos said sincerely. Secretly he was stunned at the young monarch's reception of their petit Gascon.

"I can't wait for the queen to meet the tiny urchin," King Louis stood up and walked off the dais. "I have some tedious reports to go through," he glanced sideways at Treville. "Care to join me? If I am to be bored out of my mind I'd rather do it with company."

Bowing, Treville's eyes twinkled. "As you wish, sire." Facing his men, he gave them a rueful shake of his ever greying head. "Dismissed."

"Does that mean we can go?" Charles looked up at his papas.

Hefting Charles up over his shoulders, Porthos grinned. "Yeah, runt. We can get outta 'ere."

Every now and then, Charles looked over his own shoulder at the king who was smiling and waving back at him. "I want my hair to grow long like that." Not understanding why his papas started groaning in that way, Charles stuck his thumb in his mouth.


	4. Chapter 4

_A few days later_

Having found a home, just the right size for the three of them and a growing child, Athos was at peace with his decision. His brothers had been in accord with his choice, having come out to see it with him. The house was barely a mile out of the city. Tucked back away from the main road it sat near a small brook surrounded by various wildflowers. Charles would love it.

A smile tugged at Athos’ lips, picturing their toddler splashing about in the brook or picking fresh flowers to be brought into their home. The only thing that could possibly be a detriment to his decision was the fact that there were too many trees. Uprooting them would not be a pleasant task and expensive. Aramis had reminded him that it was what children do. Getting into all sorts of mischief including tree climbing. His brother told him it wouldn’t do them any good to curb Charle’s natural tendencies either. Even though Aramis’ words were wise concern still filled Athos that Charles would end up climbing one of them, falling and do himself an injury. Perhaps now was the time to invest in a sturdy leash.

Giving notice to their landlords was just a trifle thing to them. It was the actual moving part that Athos found daunting. The sooner he and his brothers began transferring their possession into their new home, the sooner Charle’s nightmares involving his pere would be a thing of the past. At least he prayed it would be so.

++++

_Nearly a week later at the inseparable’s new residence_

Draped over one of the wagons containing their furniture, Aramis watched Porthos lift a heavy oak table above his head without breaking a sweat. “Wished I had your muscles, mon ami,” he shouted at Porthos’ back.

Turning around, walking backwards, Porthos offered his friend a huge grin. “Yeah,” he raised the table even higher showing off his strength, “and I wished I had your aim.”

“Papa, Mis,” Charles tugged on his papa’s pants, “I want to help.”

Bending down, Aramis chucked Charle’s chin lightly. “Let’s see then what I can find that’s just your size, mmmmm,” he dropped a kiss on top of the petit’s head. Rifling through their belongings Aramis found a pail full of odds and ends, just right for their young one to carry without harming himself. “Here you go, Charles.” He was pleased to hear the lad humming a tune that Aramis had taught him only a few days ago, as Charles skipped toward their new house.

Seeing the exchange between the two, Athos walked over to his brother smiling. “You’ve made our son very happy.”

“He wants to help,” Aramis shrugged. “I’ll have to see what else I can find because I doubt he’ll be satisfied with just a bucket full of bits and pieces.”

They both began searching through the wagon for more things the garcon could carry when they heard Charles' cry of pain.

Running as if their lives depended upon it, Athos and Aramis listened to the sounds of their son's sobs. Entering the house they found poor Charles on the floor clutching his leg crying his heart out.

Automatically, Aramis started feeling the moppet’s leg for breaks of any kind. Seeing Athos waiting for his report, he shook his head. “Nothing broken at least.” Bending low enough to peer into the toddler’s teary eyes, Aramis gently tipped Charle’s head up. “Where does it hurt, mon petit?”

Sniffing, Charle’s wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “I tripped over something. Fell down.” He pointed at his pants. “Sorry, it tore.”

Being so concerned that their son had suffered a fracture or sprain, Aramis completely missed the rip in Charle’s pant leg. Rolling it up, he hissed at the angry red scratch marks that were bleeding. “Athos, get my medical kit. I have to treat this before it becomes infected.”

“On it,” Athos dashed out of the house nearly running into Porthos who was coming from around out back.

“Hey! What’s the rush?” Going inside, Porthos grumbled to himself about nearly getting knocked off his feet. But when he noted the tearful whelp on the floor, his heart stuttered to a stop. “What the ‘ell happened?” he bellowed, startling Charles so much that the lad's tears ceased.

“Our petit tripped over,” Aramis bent down to pick up a worn looking bolt and held it up, “I guess this. Caused some nasty scratches in the process.”

Pushing past Porthos’ massive bulk, Athos dropped down beside Charles. Eyeing the object Aramis held, Athos growled. “Tis rusted.”

“I noticed,” Aramis retorted sharply. “So I’m going to make sure I clean his injury thoroughly.”

"We don't have any salt with us," Athos knew the marksman liked to treat injuries such as these with salted water first.

"I 'ave some," Porthos offered. "A man's gotta eat," he grunted. "I made sure Serge packed it along with our food before we left the Garrison. 'E knows 'ow I like my food salty," Porthos winked at Charles who was intently listening to him. "I'll get it from the basket."

"One day, mon frere," Aramis looked into Porthos eyes, "all that salt is going to cause you problems." Seeing his brother about to retort, Aramis held up his hand. "But for today I am glad you brought it along."

Grumbling on his way out the door, Porthos didn't bother saying what was on the tip of his tongue. He'd worry about the consequences when or if they happened.

Tipping their son's face up toward him, Aramis smiled into the pain-filled petit's face. "The salt will sting but will help clean out the wound on your leg. Then I will make a poultrice to place upon it." The poultrice would help draw out any infection that may decide to set in. He wouldn't risk Charle's life for anything.

"Aramis?" Athos needed something to do other than worry.

"Why don't you make sure there are no other obstacles in the way that our poppet could get hurt upon while I take care of this," Aramis smiled, hoping that his actions would put Charles more at ease.

"You don't need me to help you here first?" Athos waved his hand toward the garcon. He really didn't want to leave Charle's side while the petit was hurting so.

"Now that you mention it," Aramis observed Charles staring at his older brother with yearning in his dark eyes. "Perhaps you could hold onto our son while I attend to his wound."

"I can do that," Athos smiled, happy to be of use. Actually he was afraid that Charles would burst into tears if he left.

Coming back, Porthos handed Aramis a small container. "There's more than enough salt in there for ya to use."

"Merci," Aramis noted Athos had a firm hold upon their toddler so he got up and went to fill a pail with water from their well. When he came back he mixed just the right amount of salt he needed to it.

Sitting on the floor Athos held tight to their youngest. His chin rested on top of Charle's head. Aramis had the lad's leg extended and started cleaning it. Sure enough as soon as the wet cloth touched the petit's skin, Charles jerked in Athos' arms while Aramis grabbed the garcon's leg to prevent him from pulling away.

Scowling at his two papas, Charle's thumb quickly worked its way into his mouth.

"Considering the alternative," Athos grinned over the child's head, "I won't even try to remove that finger."

"I wouldn't advise it either," Aramis chuckled. "If it gives our Charles comfort then tis all I care about for the moment."

Observing Charles furiously sucking his thumb, Porthos shook his head. "What was it Charles told us 'is pere said about 'im and trouble?"

"It manages to always find him," Athos sighed. "Tis to be hoped the older he gets that does not prove to be a problem."

"Yeah, right," Porthos snorted. "Good luck with that."

"Mon frere," Aramis put down the cloth, getting up to mix the herbs he needed to make up the poultrice, "have a little faith."

"I 'ave faith the kid's gonna find trouble no matter 'ow old 'e gets," Porthos fondly gazed down upon the petit whelp. "You're gonna be a right 'andful for us I just 'ave a feelin'."

Removing his thumb, Charles tremulously smiled up at his largest papa. "I'll try to be good, papa Porth." When his papa Thos placed a kiss upon his cheek, Charles snuggled into him further.

"You're always good, mon petit," Aramis murmured as he knelt down again and began applying the poultrice. "Now this won't hurt at all. I'll wrap it up tight so you can still move around." He wriggled his fingers comically to make Charles laugh. "Just don't take it off until I say so."

Bobbing his head up and down, Charles quietly watched papa Mis take care of his hurts. "I still want to help move stuff."

"I doubt we could stop the whelp if we even wanted to," Porthos gazed at his brothers who he could tell came to that same conclusion probably the moment the kid turned those bright eyes upon them.

"I think the regiment has found its secret weapon," Athos laughed.

Lips quirking upward Aramis nodded in agreement, finishing up. "All right. Tis done." Getting up Aramis glanced at Athos. "Now you can go hunting for the _trouble_ that may find our Charles."

Reluctantly releasing his charge, Athos too got to his feet. "Very funny."

"I like to think I'm a man of many talents," Aramis twirled his mustache, which for some reason Charles found quite amusing. "You'll have to wait a good few years until you grow one like mine, petit."

"I want to look like papa Thos," Charles chirped to the astonishment of all his papas.

Looking and feeling smug, Athos puffed out his chest. "I did say that Charles was a bright lad."

"Kid's got taste all right," Porthos laughed out loud at the sour look crossing Aramis' handsome features.

"There's taste," Aramis shrugged, "and then there's _taste_ , mes amis."

"Green's a good color on ya," Porthos chuckled, knowing the marksman was jealous.

"Hmmpf!" Aramis acted indignant at his friend's remark. "Tis not a shade I care to wear," deliberately misinterpreting Porthos' jibe. Turning away Aramis went to wash up.

Lifting Charles to his feet, Athos made sure the toddler was steady before letting him go off on his own. "Now be careful while I check for other objects similar to the one that hurt you."

"I will, papa Thos," Charles trotted off outside to find the wagon.

"Oy! There 'e goes." Porthos took off after the kid. "As fast as the whelp moves even injured, I think it'll take the whole regiment ta keep track of Charles."

"Right now I'll just settle for the three of us to do that job," Athos retorted. "You make sure Charles doesn't try to take anything bigger than he is from the wagon."

Sidling up beside Athos, Aramis leaned into the older man's shoulder. "I wonder if we bit off more than we can chew."

"Non," Athos smiled, watching Porthos chase Charles around the wagon. Hearing their son giggling, when Porthos caught the todder just to end up tossing Charles into the air and catching him in his big arms, made Athos' heart lighter. "I believe Charles came into our lives for a reason," he caught the understanding in Aramis' warm eyes. "Our sweet Gascon will make us better men."

Grinning, Aramis walked over to the table where he had placed a bottle of wine. "I'll drink to that." Hearing Athos low laughter, Aramis filled their glasses.


	5. Chapter 5

_Next day – Early morning at the house_

Having a hangover from hell Aramis sat up in bed groaning, holding his head in his hands. After he and his brothers had finished bringing in all their furnishings yesterday, Aramis had a late appointment to keep with Mademoiselle Juliette. Unfortunately his head ached so badly that he had no recollection of the more memorable parts of his evening with her. All he did remember was staggering into the house in the wee hours of the morning to pass out on his bed.

Yawning, running a hand down the side of his face, Aramis frowned when his fingertips didn’t encounter his full beard. Patting his chin a few times, Aramis felt some slightly long hairs though there should have been more. Knowing something was wrong, his fingers automatically brushed over his mustache. It was still there, though it too hadn’t felt quite right to him.

Going to find a mirror, Aramis studied his reflection for about all of two seconds. “Merde!" he swore. "Mon Dieu! I don’t believe this!” he shouted, not caring who he would awaken from a sound sleep. If he was upset then the entire household deserved to be as well.

Running out of their rooms, Athos and Porthos were armed, swords drawn ready to encounter any threat that dared enter their home.

Not seeing signs of any intruders, Porthos and Athos exchanged disgruntled looks. They could have used a few good hours of extra sleep but here they were brandishing their weapons and the only person present was Aramis. His back was facing them so when he turned around both men had a good look at their comrade's face. Not able to help themselves, they fell against one another as their laughter erupted.

Clutching his shorn locks Aramis was not amused, ready to throw a punch at one or both of his brothers who were taking too much delight in his outrage. "Did either of you have anything to do with this?" he pointed to his beard that was barely there now and the same went for his mustache. His curly hair had been cut as well. If this was a prank it was in piss poor taste.

"Ya were startin' ta look a might shaggy lately," Porthos winked at Athos, "but I can't take credit none for it."

Trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably, Athos' lips twitched. "By your reaction I take it that you did not have any part in that?" he pointed to the new look Aramis now sported.

"Mon Dieu!" Aramis fumed. "I was happy with my appearance!" He turned to stare in the mirror again. Closing his eyes he quickly opened them praying that his reflection painted a different picture this time. Sadly there was no change and his heart sank. "It took a long time to get this look just right," he moaned softly, slumping down in the nearest chair.

"Athos?" Porthos tilted his head, studying the older man.

"Non," Athos shook his head, understanding the silent question his brother asked. "Perhaps the woman you were with last night decided you needed a trim?" Noting Aramis' eye roll, Athos mouth clamped shut against anything further he would have added.

"Mon cher, Athos," Aramis huffed, "Juliette has her talents but barbering is not one of them," he shrugged. "Besides she loved the way I looked."

"She 'as poor judgment then," Porthos teased, chuckling at Aramis' dark scowl.

"Tis a mystery," Athos tapped his chin. "Mmmmm." He had an idea but until Athos had evidence he wouldn't voice his opinion. Leaving his brothers, Athos went to Charle's room. Standing over the petit's bed his eyes caught something shiny laying on top of the covers. Recognizing what the object was, Athos reached down to pick it up. Noting pieces of dark hair sticking to it, he wondered what had possessed the child to become Aramis' personal barber.

Quietly closing the door behind him, Athos rejoined his friends. Dangling a pair of scissors between two fingers he held it up in front of Aramis' drawn features. "I believe this is the weapon of choice that was used on you."

Glaring daggers at the scissors, Aramis stabbed Athos with a hostile look. "Where did you discover it?"

Lips tightening, Athos was afraid to divulge the petit culprit. For whatever reason, Charles deemed it necessary to give Aramis a makeover. When Porthos nudged him in the side, Athos looked at what his larger brother held in his palm. 

"Yeah," Porthos chuckled, "found some of Mis' 'air on the floor near 'is bed." Raising a brow Porthos curiously stared at the scissors Athos still held. "Ya might as well tell us where ya found it since I know the deed was done 'ere."

Time to pay the piper, Charles, Athos mused. "Our son's room," he admitted. "On top of his bed if we're being specific about it."

Stunned, Aramis couldn't believe Charles would do such a thing to him. "Why parbleu! It makes no sense!"

"Instead of second guessing ourselves," Athos remarked dryly, "let us find out from the source." He went alone to wake the garcon. Entering the toddler's room, Athos sat down laying a hand upon his son's shoulder. "Charles wake up," he gently shook the child. Smiling when the petit rolled onto his side turning to face Athos then knuckled the sleep out of his eyes, Athos bent to place a light kiss on Charle's forehead.

"Papa Thos," Charles quickly sat up. "Something wrong?"

"You could say that," Athos ran his hand over the poppet's unruly hair. "I discovered a pair of scissors on your bed. Care to explain why you had them?"

Averting his eyes from his papa, Charles plucked at his blankets. When a finger lifted his chin up he couldn't help but stare into his papa Thos' caring blue eyes. "Said I wanted to look like you."

Charles words of yesterday coming back to him, Athos was puzzled. "Oui, I was honored that you felt thusly." He was intrigued as to what possible motive urged Charles to such a rash act. "You still haven't explained about the scissors."

"Papa Mis had too much hair," Charles dared a quick peek at his papa then glanced away. "Didn't think he'd miss some."

Hiding his expression of surprise by covering his mouth, Athos' shoulders began to shake. When he felt settled down enough he continued his interrogation. "Is that why Aramis is now complaining of appearing like a shorn lamb?" He wasn't quite able to discern the sound that escaped his son just then but if anyone were to have asked Athos, it came awfully close to sounding like disgust.

"I was careful," tears gathered in Charle's brown eyes. His chin beginning to quiver he asked," Is papa Mis mad at me?"

Rubbing his chin, Athos had to think upon how to answer such an innocent question. Bien, perhaps not so innocent at that. "He's understandably upset right now." The burning question on the tip of his tongue made Athos blurt out, "How did you manage to do all that without waking Aramis up?"

"He made lots of noise coming inside. Woke me up," Charles explained. "You didn't hear him?"

"Evidently Porthos and I sleep like the dead," Athos then thought he could have phrased that better, but Charles didn't appear to mind his choice of words.

"Couldn't sleep then," Charles shrugged.  "So I went to his room to talk," Charles snuggled up against his papa Thos, feeling the love coming from the older man as he was wrapped up tightly in his papa's arms. "He smelled bad," Charles wriggled his nose. When his papa began to laugh, Charle's eyes widened in surprise. "He was already asleep. That was so fast," he stared into papa Thos' face. "Did you know he snores really loud?"

Listening to Charles was a delight, Athos was more than amused as he now understood how Charles got away with doing what he did. Aramis was drunk out of his mind apparently and it would have taken cannon fire to awaken his brother when he got himself into that state. "Charles, what did you think to do with all that hair you removed?"

"Wanted a mustache and beard," Charles blinked innocently up at his papa.

"How would you have accomplished that feat?" It would have been an interesting sight to be sure, watching his son piecing those together. Athos felt it would have ended up a lost cause, and after all that trouble his son had gone to.

"Glue," Charles wondered why his papa Thos was laughing so much. 

Not being able to take much more, Athos came to a decision. Lifting Charles into his arms, he went out into the main room again. Whispering in the petit garcon's ear he said, "Tell your papa Mis how sorry you are."

Chin jutting out, Charle's stood his ground. "But I'm not. I wanted to be like you." Hearing Papa Porth' bellow of laughter Charle's head swung completely around, his mouth forming a perfect 'O'.

"At least our kid's not gonna turn out ta be a liar," Porthos grinned, still wondering what the petit whelp meant by that.

Setting Charles down on top of the table where Aramis was sulking, Athos tapped the moppet on the head. "Apologize now."

"Mmmmm, sorry, papa Mis."

"I'd like to believe so but I don't think you are." Aramis was extremely bewildered as his eyes took in that stubborn Gascon temperment that he was sure would make them all turn grey before their time. "Why, petit?"

Giving his papa Thos a pleading look and seeing no help from that quarter, Charle's thumb found its way to his mouth. It didn't remain there for very long as his papa Mis removed it.

"Explain why I now have to go to seek out a barber in Paris to repair the damage you have created," Aramis' words sounded harsh but there was no actual heat in them. He heard Charle's explanation about wanting to be like Athos but Aramis was still left up in the air.

Sighing, Athos stepped in. "Aramis, tis like this," he looked his brother in the eye. "In his mind that was the only way Charles could figure out what to do to appear more like myself." He could tell when Aramis _got it_ by the way his friend's dark eyes softened looking at their petit.

"Oh Mon Dieu!" Porthos slapped Aramis on the back. "So our kid robbed Peter ta pay Paul," he chuckled. "Ya gotta love 'im."

"Right now, mon frere," Aramis blew out a slow breath, "I do not feel the love so much as the need to make this," he pointed to his face, "look more appealing again."

"Don't go givin' me ammo ta use against ya like that," Porthos waggled his finger in the air.

"Are you mad at me?" Charles timidly asked, guessing he should have asked papa Mis first for permission.

"I do remember telling you it would take a long time for you to grow a beard and mustache," Aramis expression was gentle as he gazed at his son. "I didn't think you'd take it to heart so." Reaching out he pulled Charles onto his lap and dropped a kiss on top of the toddler's head. But when Charles suddenly strained his body away from him, Aramis felt hurt until the lad explained his actions.

"You still stink," Charles eyes grew wide as saucers when his papa Porth snorted loudly. "But he does," anxiously Charles looked at his papa Thos, worried that he had said something wrong.

"Kid's right, Mis," Porthos sniffed at his brother and pulled a face. "Ta high 'eaven ya smell. What kind of wine was your Juliette servin' last night?"

"There was an assortment of beverages on offer," Aramis said. "Offhand I can't remember them all."

"Tis better left unsaid," Athos dry tone wasn't lost on his brothers. "Aramis, make yourself presentable and do seek out a barber today."

"I'll 'ide the scissors where only we can find 'em," Porthos grunted.

"Tis a bit late for that," Aramis grumbled, stalking past them to his room.

"I fear tis going to take Aramis awhile to get over this latest trauma," Athos decided he needed some good, strong coffee.

"My 'eart breaks," Porthos reached out to ruffle Charle's hair.

"Charles," Athos' brows drew together, "what did you do with all that hair you collected?"

"Box under my bed," Charles admitted sheepishly. Seeing papa Thos and papa Porth staring at him strangely he rushed out his next words. "I promise not to do that again," Charles looked at both his papas with love in his eyes.

"We're really going to have to get you a leash," Athos murmured, walking away shaking his head. He'd let Porthos deal with their petit troublemaker for now.

++++

_Near the noon hour, Garrison - Captain Treville's office_

Having been given the week off for the move, Athos hadn't had a chance to go back to the Garrison. But after this mornings events he needed to seek out Treville's sound advice. Seeing his captain's dancing eyes as he listened to Athos' story brought a smile to his lips. "Charles is very sorry for what he did."

"Your petit Gascon got caught what else was there left for him to do after that?" Treville was highly amused. He wished he had seen Aramis' expression when the marksman discovered what Charles had done. Truly that would have been a sight.

"Charles is quite precocious for his age," Athos ran his hand up and down the back of his neck. "I'm seriously looking into that leash I talked about."

"You don't want to go to such drastic measures as that," Treville said. "He's a petit garcon. Charles needs to spread his wings."

"I fear if his _wings_ spread any further the entire Garrison could be in jeopardy," Athos retorted wryly.

"I'm glad you came by today because I was going to stop by your house and deliver an invitation."

"Oh really," Athos quirked a brow.

"Oui," Treville smiled. "King Louis was enamored with the imp as you know and the queen eagerly awaits meeting our young Charles."

"When do they want to see him?" Athos prayed that Charles would be on his best behavior when he brought the garcon before Their Majesties or else Athos may just have to turn in his commission.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this story Constance is single and has never married. She owns a small shop as a seamstress and is personal seamstress for the queen as in the original Dumas' novel.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, early afternoon_

While Athos visited with Captain Treville, Aramis had left to go into the city to see a barber about doing justice to what was left of his beard, mustache and poorly cut locks. Porthos, on his own, decided to take care of some smaller details that still needed seen too in regards to their new home.

Because of what Charles had done, Porthos had confined their petit enfant to the lad’s room for the rest of the afternoon as his punishment. Earlier Porthos had brought in a glass full of milk, for the toddler, along with a plate full of cheese and apples cut up into tiny pieces plus a cookie for the whelp’s sweet tooth. Happy that the poppet’s hunger would be satisfied with that light repast, Porthos went back to work.

Having been hard at it for a few hours, Porthos went to check on the garcon. What he saw when he opened the petit’s bedroom door made him instantly shut it again. Resting his forehead against the hardwood, Porthos squeezed his eyes tightly shut. He was positive he hadn’t touched a drop of liquor today. Having quenched his thirst with well water, Porthos knew that his hallucinations had to come from something else entirely. Deciding to try again, Porthos gingerly stepped into the room. Bemused, he took in Charle's handiwork. “Athos is gonna hit the ceilin’ when ‘e gets a good look at ya,” Porthos growled. “Mis would probably just laugh 'is ass off.” Realizing what he had just said, Porthos held a finger to his lips. "Uh, forget that last part, kid."

Listening with half an ear anyway, Charles wasn't in the least concerned over his papa Porth' words. Eyes sliding from the mirror he had been looking at, Charles noted his papa's unhappy features. Patting the sides of his face first, then chin and upper lip last, he grinned. “Don’t you think I look like papa Thos?”

As if that statement explained everything, Porthos simply glared at the troublesome child. “I’m not sure what ya look like, whelp, but _Athos_ ain’t it.” Seeing the crestfallen expression on his son’s face, Porthos felt badly about his remark. The petit was only three years of age after all. But how was he to explain the toddler’s transformation to his brothers, especially Athos?” His friends may never trust him with Charle's care again.

Bouncing back from his papa Porth’ words, Charles grinned impishly, the dark hairs on his upper lip threatening to fall off if he wasn’t careful. Patting them in place again Charles did the same for the rest of his face where he had affixed his mustache and beard.

Zeroing in on a small tin filled with a white substance, Porthos understood how Charles had accomplished such a feat. “Mon Dieu! Ya put glue on your skin!” He was concerned more than angry now, worrying how they were going to remove those hairs without hurting the garcon. “Ya crazy kid!” Porthos yelled. “‘Em ‘airs ‘ave ta come off now!” he tried to sound firm but judging by his son's reaction it fell short of the mark.

“Non!” Charles got up from where he had been sitting in front of the mirror. “Non!” he stamped both feet on the floor, prepared to go into tantrum mode if needs must.

This is so not what Porthos needed to round out his afternoon. There was going to be a lot of rubbing and scrubbing in Charle’s future. Thinking of all the fuss the petit Gascon was going to put up over it just made Porthos want to beat on someone. Hearing sounds of footsteps approaching, he wasn't sure which of his brothers it was. Needing to go check, Porthos left Charles alone. Seeing Athos carelessly tossing his chapeau onto a chair, Porthos worried how to approach him with what their whelp had done. Knowing the situation needed a light touch, he tread carefully.

"Everything all right here?' Athos tried to peer past Porthos' broad shoulders into Charle's room but the bigger man had quickly shut the door behind him.

Scratching the back of his head Porthos tried to act like everything was normal, when it was actually the complete opposite. "Tell me about your visit with the captin' first."

He hadn't risen in the ranks to become Treville's lieutenant for being simple minded. Athos knew when someone was using evasive action in steering the conversation in another direction. It was then he felt that Charles must have done something else in the short time he had been gone. Deciding to play this Porthos' way for the moment, Athos replied, "It went as usual. But Treville informed me that Their Majesties would like to see Charles on the morrow. Especially since Queen Anne has yet to meet our youngest." Folding his arms, Athos tilted his head to the left noting that Porthos had begun to sweat. "Your turn."

"Remember 'ow the kid told us 'e 'ad a box in 'is room with Mis' 'airs in it?" Porthos had been blocking the entrance to Charle's bedroom up to now. Stepping aside he placed a hand on Athos' shoulder as his comrade went to walk past him. "We shoulda confiscated it right then and there," Porthos sadly shook his head. "Brace yourself. It might take a bit of gettin' used ta."

Pausing at the threshold, Athos asked, "Will I need a drink after this?"

"Perhaps after three bottles of that good stuff ya got hidden away ya might be able ta forget what you're goin' ta see," Porthos' lips twisted.

With those daunting words swirling through his mind, Athos slipped past the door. His first reaction was shock. His second was anger at his brother for letting this happen. His third was laughter which he held firmly in check. Ranting to the high heavens wouldn't do him or the toddler any good at this juncture. Collapsing on the bed, where Charles sat cross-legged on, Athos propped himself up on an elbow. "What possessed you to do this?"

"I look like you now papa Thos," Charles announced proudly.

Blinking at that declaration, Athos hung his head staring at the blanket. When he dared look back into Charle's beaming face, he held up a finger. "Those," Athos tapped the mustache on the lad's lip, "have to be removed now!"

"Papa Porth said that already," Charles pouted adorably.

"And he would be correct," Athos wondered why this was happening to all of them. He would have to ask one of the older Musketeers, who had been married for a number of years, if this was normal shenanigans for a three year old to get up to.

"Non! I won't!"

"Oh oui," Athos growled. Reaching out he pulled the poppet onto his lap. As soon as he tried to pluck the offending hairs out, Charles hissed in pain batting at Athos' fingers. Noting the glue on the table he realized this was not going to be an easy task. Thinking upon seeking Constance's help, Athos gathered Charles up into his arms and walked back out to the main room where Porthos stood impatiently waiting. "I am going to see if Constance could aid us for I am afraid to cause our pup more pain."

"Sounds like a good idea ta me, Athos. But it's a shame Mis ain't seen the kid like this." Porthos knew this would be one of those moments in time that he would never forget. As a small snuff of laughter escaped him, he sobered up quickly at seeing the irate look upon Athos' face.

"He went to the barber's right?" Athos pulled Charle's thumb out of the garcon's mouth for fear some of those loose hairs would stick to it and be swallowed. "Mon ange, you must not do that." Listening to Porthos' bark of laughter, Athos glowered at him.

"Kid's hardly an angel," Porthos' wide grin nearly split his face. " _Vaurien_ fits 'im much better."

"If Charles insists on acting like a petit devil we may have to hire Father Hubert as a babysitter," Athos walked toward the door. "How long has Aramis been gone?"

"A few hours now," Porthos followed them outside. "Look at that," he watched Aramis come riding in on Belle. "Ain't gonna miss seein' Charles afta all."

Tying up his mount, Aramis started toward the house. His momentum came to an abrupt stop at seeing his son. "I believe Monsieur Muldrac worked a minor miracle upon myself," he stroked his now thinner mustache with a hand while patting his newly trimmed beard with the other. His raggedy cut hair, courtesy of Monsieur Charles, now was evenly curled around his handsome features. "Now it would appear that our pup needs a _miracle_ as well."

"Aramis," Athos hissed, "you are not helping."

"The hairs on my chinny chin chin look better on me than on our son," Aramis clucked while Athos glared fiercely back at him accompanied by Charle's scowl.

Pushng past his irritating brother, Athos set Charles on top of Roger. Mounting behind the petit enfant, he picked up the reins. "I don't know how long we'll be."

Waving at the pair, Porthos went back inside the house while Aramis stood where he was watching until the duo was out of sight.

When Aramis followed his brother inside, he removed his chapeau to run his hand through his evenly trimmed curls. "Where is Athos taking our Charles?"

"Ta see if Constance can get that mess off the kid's face without hurtin' 'im," Porthos grunted. "Dangest thing I ever saw," he chuckled. "Wantin' ta go look like Athos."

"Charles could have picked a better role model," Aramis stroked his mustache again. Just knowing he looked good made him forget his earlier upset.

Not wanting to hear anymore nonsense from the younger man, Porthos pushed Aramis aside. "Off with ya now. Some of us got work ta do."

++++

_Garrison_

Not knowing why he stopped here first, Athos drew up beside Treville's office. Getting Charles down from Roger, he took the garcon by the hand and led him up the stairs. Knocking first, Athos pushed open the door. Not seeing the captain anywhere, he glanced at Charle's sullen features. "Behave and stay here while I seek out Captain Treville." A vigorous head nod from the imp made Athos feel the child would heed his words this time.

As soon as his papa Thos closed the door, Charles went to sit in Captain Treville's chair pretending that he was the man in charge. Shortly he had the captain's desk in disarray. Papers scattered to an fro, inkwell tipped on its side, maps fallen to the floor.

It was this sight that greeted Treville when he made his way inside the office, accompanied by his lieutenant. Trevilles first inclination was to burst out in a fit of laughter at the comical sight of that face. Athos had warned him but it was something that you had to see for yourself to believe. But his horror at seeing his desk took precedence once he witnessed the chaos that the petit had wrought. Plus noting that Charles occupied Treville’s chair as if he had the right to it made him growl low in his throat. “You,” he crooked a finger at the toddler, “remove yourself from that chair at once!” Glancing at Athos, who hadn’t moved a muscle since entering the room except perhaps for some twitching of the man’s right eye, Treville smirked. “The garcon appears to have a penchant for chairs of higher ranking men.”

“Apologies,” Athos dipped his head. “We will try to correct that problem in the future,” he sighed. “It would seem that Charles cannot be left to his own devices for very long.”

Waving off the apology, Treville chuckled. “I don’t envy you the task.” Leaning closer to his lieutenant he whispered, “Good luck with getting the lad’s newly acquired whiskers off too.”

“My thanks,” Athos retorted sarcastically. Stomping over to Charle’s side, since the urchin had not followed Treville’s orders, he plucked his protesting son out of the chair. With a curt nod at the captain, and a significant glare at his petit horror, Athos departed.

By the time Athos came down the steps, a horde of Musketeers had gathered. All of them vying for position to get a good look at the petit enfant the inseparables had taken in. They had all heard the general gossip about it and most just wanted a good look at Charles. Today they got more than they bargained for upon seeing what the lad had done to himself.

"Athos," Monet called out, "your petit is in need of a shave." His words made the rest of the Musketeers either snicker or laugh.

"Very funny," Athos' expression was sour at best. As he walked past the rest of the men, Athos heard similar remarks. All in good jest but he wasn't quite in the mood to hear them.

Frowning, Charles looked all around him at the amused soldiers. At first he sought the safety of his papa Thos' neck as Charles hid his face in it. Then changing his mind he twisted his body around to glare at them. "I look like papa Thos!"

Blushing as the chuckling and heckling grew into rowdy, full-out gaffaws, Athos muttered something under his breath that wouldn't do at all for Charle's petit ears to hear.

Abel caught Athos' arm. "Your Charles is adorable," his eyes twinkled. "I would be proud if I had a son who wanted to resemble me."

Giving a jerky nod of thanks to his brother-in-arms, Athos settled Charles back on top of Roger so they could finally go see Constance.

++++

_Constance's apartments_

"How in heaven's name did Charles get this way, Athos?" Constance shook her head, her red hair falling over her shoulder as she bent down to take a good look at the petit's handiwork.

"All I can tell you is that the garcon claimed he wanted to look like me," Athos waved his hand at the unusual silent child, "bien, you can see the outcome."

"Tis going to take a goodly amount of soap and water to remove all that from his face," she tisked. "What I don't do for you Musketeers," Constance muttered. Glaring at Athos, she pushed him toward the door. "Make yourself useful. Go on," Constance pushed him again. "I need several buckets of water filled." Watching him leave, she turned her attention onto Charles. "Are you going to continue doing things like this?"

"Why is everyone mad at me?" Charle's eyes began to tear up and his thumb was very close to entering his mouth again.

"Mon coeur," Constance dropped a kiss on top of the petit enfant's head, "you'll have to wait until you're much older for when you can grow your own beard and mustache," she stifled her own laughter the longer she kept staring at Charle's face. He really was just the cutest thing. "Perhaps once I get these hairs off everyone will be a bit more forgiving." She wasn't looking forward to it and knew, without a doubt, Charles wasn't going to enjoy it either.

When Athos had finished filling the buckets, Constance indicated a huge basin to begin pouring the water into. Shoving the sleeves of her dress up past her elbows, she dropped a huge bar of soap into the first bucket and then grabbed a couple of towels from off the kitchen rack. Looking into Athos worried eyes, Constance grinned. "You may need to hold Charles in place for this."

Grimacing, Athos understood his role to play and stood behind his son's back, keeping a firm hold of Charles for her.

Once Constance began to scrub at the hairs on the poppet's face, Charles began to jerk away. "Hurts!" he tried to bat her hands off but found his arms held securely. Looking up, he saw his papa Thos' shaking his head at him in warning.

"Behave for Constance!" Athos snapped. "All of us want this over and done with as quickly as possible."

"Tis not coming off as easily as all that," Constance rolled her eyes. "This may take at least an hour. I have to be careful of his skin."

"Do what you think best," Athos gripped his petit garcon's shoulders and bent down to whisper something in Charle's ear.

Whatever Athos had told the tidbit, Constance was pleased because Charles was good as gold for her after that. She did her best not to hurt him but, by the time Constance was finished, the lower half of the petit's face was beet red. "I'll give you a cream to put on him that will help ease any discomfort Charles may have."

"Aramis probably has something as well," Athos remarked. "My thanks, Constance."

"I'm curious," she threw the soaked towels onto the table, "what did you tell Charles earlier?"

"That Their Majesties expect to see him at the palace on the morrow and that he must be clean shaven for his visit," Athos noted that Constance appeared upset at his words.

"Tis not nice to tease the child in that way, Athos," Constance admonished.

"I'm not," Athos smiled. "The lad's already met the king and made quite an impression on Louis," his blue' eyes sparkled with merriment. "When all of us were occupied at the time my son took over His Majesty's throne."

"Non!" Constance's hand covered her mouth in surprise. "Charles didn't?"

"Oui," Athos chuckled, "he did. Louis loved it! Now he wants Charles to meet the queen."

Looking at the toddler, Constance's heart melted. "Does he have a suitable outfit to wear before them? Because if not I could whip something up right now."

"Ah, ma chere," Athos kissed her hand, "you are a perle above women."

"Oh get on with you, Athos," Constance laughed. "Leave the sweet talk for Aramis."

"Because he does it better than I?" Athos quirked a brow.

"Non," Constance pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. "Because he is the _flirt_ not you."

"Then what am I, Mademoiselle?" Athos lifted Charles into his arms again.

"Mmmmm," she pretended to think on it. "You, sir Musketeer, are that rarity among men... an absolute gentleman right down to the soles of your feet."

Feeling his face heating up, Athos couldn't think upon anything suitable to say for the life of him. Clearing his throat he glanced down at Charles who, for once, wasn't interrupting but listening in rapt attention regardless if he understood their conversation. "I believe tis time I took this young one home."

"Athos," Constance huffed, "you never answered my question about Charles needing something nice to wear."

"He has several articles of clothing we've purchased for him until the rest of his things arrive from Lupiac."

"All right then if you're sure," she walked them to the door. "Just don't forget whenever you need a babysitter I'm available," Constance added. "Er, that is, unless Queen Anne has need of me."

"Once again," Athos dipped his head, "I am in your debt."

++++

_Back home_

"There he is!" Aramis took Charles from his brother and twirled the petit around and around until they were both dizzy.

"Kid looks better," Porthos could see the whelp's face was red. "She had ta scrub 'im real good I see."

"There wasn't any other way around it," Athos was glad that Aramis had stopped all that spinning around. They certainly didn't need Charles to get sick on top of everything else. "But he and I both survived as you can see."

"I hid the glue where our brat can't find it," Porthos winked.

"Same place where the scissors went?" Athos' lips twitched.

"Ya got that right," Porthos snorted.

"As long as they're safely out of Charle's itchy fingers I'm pleased," Athos smirked. "Now lest we forget, tis time to think upon what Charles should wear to the palace. Then after choosing the appropriate garments we can lay them out so that they're ready. This way there's no running around like chickens with our heads cut off to do things at the last minute."

"I know which one Charles should wear," Aramis said, his eyes lighting up with anticipation.

"Ya mean the one that makes 'im look like a petit prince," Porthos frowned.

"That's it exactly," Aramis clapped his hands eagerly.

This time Charles understood what they were talking about and piped up. "Collars too tight on that one."

All three men stared down in surprise at their son, then looked at one another feeling slightly put out.

"If he's a critic at three..." Athos didn't finish.

"I'd hate to see what he's like when Charles gets older," Aramis was displeased.

"Our whelp should 'ave proper dress sense by then," Porthos chortled. "Kid's right about that collar though."

Turning to Aramis, who appeared angered by Porthos' comment, Athos carefully said, "Perhaps something else would do instead."

"Yeah," Porthos agreed. "Less fluffy looking too."

" _Fluffy_ ," Aramis glared at his brother. "I'll have you know I picked that outfit personally," he huffed.

"It shows," Porthos' laughter filled the room. "Mis ya got the taste of a girl."

"A.... _girl_!" Aramis squeaked.

Picking Charles up, Athos tip toed away leaving his friends to converse upon their ideas of fashion sense.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes below.
> 
> ++++

_Next day, mid-morning – Royal Palace, throne room_

“Now be on your best behavior, petit,” Aramis dropped a kiss on top of Charle’s head.

“Yeah, no runnin’ off ta hide behind those stupid Red Guards,” Porthos winked at the whelp.

Rolling his eyes Athos passed on admonishing Porthos for telling their son that the Red Guards were stupid, even though his brother was correct in his assessment. Kneeling down in front of Charles, Athos reached out to adjust the petit garcon’s clothes which had somehow become askew. Satisfied Athos stood back up, smiling at his son, he hugged the lad to his side. “You’ll do.” Feeling the child tugging on his doublet, Athos stared down at him.

“ _I’ll do_ for what, papa Thos?” Tilting his head up, Charles studied his papa curiously.

Bending low, Aramis whispered in the toddler’s ear. “Athos meant that your appearance would now be pleasing to Their Majestys.”

Biting his lip, Charles thought upon that and glanced down at what he wore. “What if they don’t like what I’m wearing?”

Shoulders shaking, Porthos turned away for a moment not wanting his son to see him laughing at the innocent question Charles had posed to his brother.

Startled at what their petit enfant had asked of him, Aramis glanced helplessly at Athos to help him out.

“You explained it to him,” Athos drawled, “now dig yourself out.”

Annoyed with his older comrade, Aramis really was unsure of what to say. “I guess we’d have to take you back home and have you change into something else.”

It hadn’t escaped Charle’s notice that papa Mis had looked at his papa Thos for help. “You don’t know do you?” Hearing papa Porth' loud bark of amusement, Charles swiveled his head around so fast that his dark hair flew into his eyes.

Captain Treville’s eyes narrowed upon his men and the adorable picture Charles made standing with them. Striding over he ignored the inseparables and gazed down upon the lad. “Are you ready to meet King Louis again and his queen?”

“Oui,” Charles bobbed his head up and down. Nervous, his thumb slowly started inching upward toward his lips.

Noting the movement, Treville reached out to gently grasp the hand the thumb was attached too and pulled the moppet up into his arms. “There is nothing to be afraid of, sweetpea.” The endearment easily slipped out, surprising not only himself but the inseparables as well as his men grinned at him.

“Maybe I’m not wearing the right things?” Charles whispered into the captain’s ear.

“Mon garcon,” Treville hefted the youngster up higher into his arms, “I believe the king and queen wouldn’t mind whatever you wore,” he tapped the petit on the nose.

“Then could I change now?” Charles frowned down at his fancy clothes, wrinkling his nose. Hearing his three papas moaning, his eyes grew round staring at them oddly.

“Captin’,” Porthos grunted, “ya shouldn’t ‘ave said that.”

Giving a rueful shake of his greying head, Treville scratched at his beard. “Charles, since you’re already presentable leave them on for a bit longer, eh? At least until your visit is over,” Treville’s blue eyes twinkled. “Your papas will take you home afterward so you can change into your play clothes.” He then ended a tug of war with the child as Charles had tried to remove his jacket and Treville kept putting it back in place.

“Are _they_ here yet?” Charles rested his head upon the captain’s shoulder. He already wished he could go outside to play, though he kept his eyes firmly locked onto the pretty throne Charles had been so captivated by his first time here.

“Sometimes monarchs do not keep to their schedules,” Treville muttered, truly wishing that this time Louis could have been on time. The king didn’t know what it was yet to have an petit enfant squirming in your arms.

“In other words, Charles, His Majesty will be late,” Aramis offered his son with a wink.

“Why couldn’t I be late?” Charles whined his displeasure as only a child could.

“Uh,” Treville floundered for the right words. Exchanging an out of depth look with Athos, he silently asked for help. “The garcon asks a lot of questions.”

“Children tend too,” Athos carelessly shrugged, “or so I understood.”

“I think they’re finally ‘ere now,” Porthos spoke up, having seen four Red Guards enter the throne room.

“Good thing it wasn’t much longer,” Aramis murmured into Athos’ ear. “I doubt Captain Treville feels like fielding anymore of Charle’s questions.”

“Here they come,” Athos’ deep voice announced quietly. “Treville has his reprieve,” his lopsided smile made his brothers smirk.

With guards in front of and behind them, King Louis and Queen Anne walked into the room. When they approached their thrones, King Louis looked from his own chair to where Charles was wrapped up in his old fox’s arms. Raising a brow he said, “I thought perhaps young Charles would already be ensconced on my throne.”

Stepping forward, Athos dipped his head. “I expect, sire, tis the reason our captain has our son secure in his hold.”

“I can see that,” King Louis shared an amused grin with Athos. Looking at his wife, he could see a wide smile break out on her lovely face. “Ma Cherie, that is Charles.”

“Oh, he is utterly charming,” Queen Anne cried out in delight.

“Non, non, non,” King Louis rolled his eyes. “ _Utterly charming_ is reserved for nobles dressed up like peacocks,” he huffed. “ _Utterly adorable_ is what our Charles is,” King Louis signaled for Treville to bring forth the toddler. “I believe my throne is safe for the moment, Treville,” King Louis offered wryly. “You may put Charles down now.” Once the youngster was back on his feet, King Louis took the petit urchin's hand and brought him forward. “Charles, this is Queen Anne, my wife.”

“Hello,” Charles greeted her softly, holding out his hand to her. “You’re awfully pretty.”

Her tinkling laugh filled the chamber. "Merci for the compliment, Charles,” Queen Anne gently took his hand into her own, leaned down and kissed Charles on the cheek.

“Oooooh!” Charles wasn’t expecting that and tugged his hand away to touch the area where she had kissed him.

Blue eyes dancing, Queen Anne had noted the surprise that registered on the petit enfant’s face. To the rest of the men standing in slight astonishment at her actions she said, “Charles is simply too precious.”

“Already ‘e’s a heartbreaker,” Porthos announced proudly to his brothers.

“Was there ever any doubt?” Athos queried.

“None whatsoever,” Aramis smirked. “I’ll pass on whatever knowledge I’ve learned about charming women to the lad when he’s old enough to understand the workings of a lady’s mind.”

“You… will… not!” Athos snapped, fire in his eyes. “I have a feeling Charles will be perfectly capable of doing that entirely on his own when the time comes.”

“Hmmmpf!” Aramis’ nose was slightly bent out of joint over Athos’ feelings.

Looking at the inseparables, Queen Anne idly played with Charle’s long, dark hair. “May I borrow him from time to time do you think?"

Athos glanced at Porthos who in turn stared at Aramis. Their silent communication was legendary in and around the Garrison. It was what had made them such a great team. As one they stepped forward to bow.

“It would be an honor, Your Majesty,” Athos spoke for all of them.

“Now that’s settled,” King Louis gleefully interrupted,” the queen and I have a gift for the garcon.” Snapping his fingers, two footmen miraculously appeared in the room carrying an object between them. Setting it down near his feet, King Louis beamed his approval.

Every eye in the room, except the guards of course, was focused on the miniature throne that had been brought in before the king. Gasps of shock could be heard from the inseparables as well as Treville upon the sight.

“Charles,” King Louis beckoned the lad closer with a crook of his finger. “I discussed my problem with the queen and we came to a mutual agreement on a most perfect solution,” he grinned while his fingertips brushed the plush velvet cushions of the minature chair. “Your very own throne.”

“It shall stay here in the palace beside my king’s throne,” Queen Anne could see the toddler didn’t know how to react. She observed the petit’s gaze bounce between his papas, the chair and back to her and Louis again. “Whenever you come for a visit, Charles,” she patted the top of the throne, “you may sit right beside your monarch.”

Clearing his throat several times before words would come forth, Athos finally found his voice. “You honor Charles and us, Your Majestys, with such a spectacular gift.”

Waving his hand, King Louis brushed Athos’ words aside. “You have that wrong, Athos,” he corrected. “Charles _honors_ us with his youthful presence,” noting the petit imp had yet to respond to the unexpected gift, King Louis continued on. “I may just steal him and bring him to one of my boring council meetings.” Catching the horror on Treville’s face he chuckled. “I expect Charles may have more intelligent insight on affairs of state then my own people.”

"King Louis may 'ave a good point about that," Porthos grinned.

"It would turn into a disaster," Athos hung his head.

"Eh," Porthos nudged Athos in the side, "some of those council members 'ave their 'eads up their asses and could use a bit of our kid's influence."

"Here, here," Aramis agreed, earning a mighty glower from Athos.

Finally the moment came when Charles made his move. Everyone watched when the lad shuffled closer to the miniature throne. The poppet examined it thoroughly, even getting down on his knees to check out the underneath.

It was an exact replica of the king’s ornate, gilted chair right down to the cherubs located on the bottom of its legs. It featured a number of motifs that found their echo in King Louis’ throne, from carved lions to celestial figures. The top center of it was decorated with a royal crown, and the throne was covered in gold set with precious and semi-precious stones such as rubies, sapphires and emeralds.

All of this fascinated Charles but what pleased the petit the most was that it belonged to him, and him alone, to sit upon whenever he wished. But he gave voice to a burning question that was on the tip of his tongue. “Could I take it home?”

“Unless there are guards around the clock I wouldn't recommend it,” King Louis pointed out. “The jewels are worth a fortune alone.”

“You don’t want someone breaking into your home and stealing your chair do you, Charles?” Queen Anne smiled into the charming garcon's expressive dark eyes.

"Non," Charles shook his head. "Could I come here a lot?" He didn't see his papas wincing at his question, ducking their heads.

"Anytime your heart desires," Queen Anne smiled, her eyes slid toward the inseparables noting how uncomfortable they all appeared. Perhaps she and Louis had gone overboard with the gift, but having no children of their own they wanted to treat Charles to something that made him happy. "Even if your papas are away on missions or on duty elsewhere, all you have to do is either send word or have someone bring you here."

"I want to sit on it," Charles was in awe at his gift, gazing at the chair as if it were the most wondrous thing in his world. Sitting down Charles wiggled his petit rear until he got comfortable in just the right position. Leaning back he let out a heartfelt sigh of contentment. "I love it!" he looked at both the king and queen, wearing a huge smile. "Merci," he bobbed his head.

"Mon petit," King Louis was pleased the toddler liked their gift, "you are more than welcome. In fact I'm expecting you to brighten this dreary palace up considerably."

"Oy!" Porthos said under his breath, listening to His Majesty's words to their son. "Are we gonna 'ave a 'ard time gettin' the whelp home today."

"Captain," Aramis glared at the officer, "had you any idea of this?"

"Non," Treville shook his head. "I'm just as stunned as you men."

"I foresee Charles becoming a pest, bothering everyone at anytime about taking him to the palace so that he can sit upon his petit throne," Athos closed his eyes as if in pain just thinking upon the ramifications.

"Er, there's always Constance," Porthos felt much better now that he had remembered her. She was a good friend to them and always willing to pitch in whenever they needed help in the past.  

Snapping his fingers, Aramis grinned. "She's perfect! Constance is always here because she's the queen's seamstress. How could we have forgotten that?"

"Easily," Athos snapped. "I hate to dump this on her but I suppose you are correct. We will have to approach Constance about it later."

"Now," King Louis bent down to pluck Charles out of the chair, "I have another surprise for you. But tis outside in the Royal Gardens." Carrying the lad out he missed seeing Charles stare after his miniature throne with longing.

++++

_Royal Gardens_

Everyone trailed after His Majesty outside to the garden area. What King Louis had up his sleeves this time was a gigantic outdoor chess set. Huge game pieces adorned the black and white squares, covering nearly half the lawn. Placing Charles down, King Louis and Queen Anne both took one of the petit enfant's hands and stepped onto the chessboard.

"Actually this has been set up for some of our guests that come to visit," King Louis explained. "But I thought that we," he indicated his queen and Charles, "could have fun jumping from one square to the other."

So for the next half an hour or so the inseparables and Treville watched as Their Majestys chased Charles all over it. Jumping from either one white square to another or from one black square to the other.

"I'm right jealous," Porthos laughed. Never in his life would he have ever expected to see something like this occurring at the palace.

"I'm beyond words at this point," Athos thought perhaps he was dreaming all this up and was still at home abed.

"How do we ever top this?" Aramis rubbed at his chin, a bit worried. This was spoiling at its most majestic and there was nothing they could do to equal it.

"You don't," Treville said firmly. "Explain to Charles how Their Majestys could afford to do this but that he can't expect the same thing from all of you," Treville slapped his chapeau against his thigh. "I know tis something that may be hard considering how spoiled Charles is going to become after this display." While talking to his men, Treville heard Queen Anne voice something about croquet being next on their agenda. "Gents, I think we may be here all day."

++++

_Near noon_

It wasn't really a hardship for the inseparables. They were told to sit and relax, were served refreshments as well, while they watched their son playing with the king and queen. Captain Treville had left long ago as he had been summoned back to the Garrison over a problem that had cropped up during his absence. When it looked like King Louis' croquet ball was well and truly stuck this time, the inseparables were hoping the king would end the game. He did but still had something else in mind for Charles.

"I want to take you to meet Cardinal Richelieu, Charles," King Louis thought this was another great idea of his. Who wouldn't want to meet the First Minister of France, even though petit Charles wouldn't understand the meaning of such a position yet?

They wanted to protest, they really did, but this was their monarch. So what were they supposed to do? Holding their collective breaths, the inseparables prayed Richelieu was in a good mood.

++++

_Palais-Cardinal_

"Your Eminence," Dufour stood at attention, "The king is here."

"His Majesty! _Here_?" Richelieu thought he had heard wrong. Usually he was the one that had to go see King Louis not the other way around. "Mon Dieu!" he waved his hand at the guard. "Parbleu! Don't leave him standing on ceremony!" He began to worry upon what would have brought Louis here. Nothing untoward came to mind. Then again this was the king. Richelieu still hadn't figured out how the young monarch's mind worked and at times he doubted he ever would.

Entering the room, King Louis held Charles in his arms and strode up to Richelieu's desk. "I have someone I want you to meet, Cardinal." Letting the child stand upon the desk, ignoring His Eminence's frown, King Louis introduced the garcon. "This is Charles d'Artagnan." To the petit he said, "Charles this is Cardinal Richelieu. He is my First Minister." Getting a head nod at his words, King Louis chuckled. "Charles is going to be raised by my three best soldiers," he pointed to the men who had followed him inside.

Being familiar with the inseparables, Richelieu barely paid them any attention. At present he was upset because the garcon was standing on top of some important papers. Trying to lift the petit's foot up to retrieve them before they were beyond repair, his head snapped up hearing Louis' laughter. "Think this is funny do you?" Then Charles began to giggle and Richelieu couldn't help smiling at the infectious sound. Lips twitching he swung the toddler up in the air placing Charles back upon the ground.

"You will be seeing a lot of Charles around the palace and the grounds in general," King Louis tugged on the lad's hair. "I thought that you two should become acquainted just so you wouldn't think the petit was simply lost in case you ever saw him."

Coming from around his desk, Richelieu wasn't completely surprised at the young king's attitude in regard to the garcon. Their Majestys were quite young and had yet to conceive their first child. He could well understand how Charles wormed his way into their affections so easily. Tabling those thoughts for later, since King Louis was already here Richelieu had some important matters to go over with him. About to discuss them Richelieu noted the inseparables appeared agitated. "Is something wrong, gentlemen?" When he heard Louis' loud snort, Richelieu whirled around to see Charles making himself right at home upon his high back winged chair.

"I am afraid, Cardinal," Louis held his stomach from laughing so hard, "that I may have to commission another chair."

++++

_Notes:_

Information for Charles' mini throne was a combination of a 17th century throne belonging to William III (Dutch: Willem; 4 November 1650 – 8 March 1702; also widely known as William of Orange). He was sovereign Prince of Orange from birth, Stadtholder of Holland, Zeeland, Utrecht, Gelderland, and Overijssel in the Dutch Republic from 1672, and King of England, Ireland, and Scotland from 1689 until his death.and a few things I took from King Solomon’s throne.

Also to any of you who ever saw The Three Musketeers or The Four Musketeers, starring Oliver Reed and Michael York, the chess scene should be a familiar one.


	8. Chapter 8

_Same day, early afternoon - the Musketeer's home_

"Mon Dieu!" Aramis sank into the nearest chair. "Tis the longest morning I've ever had."

"Ended up goin' inta our lunch time," Porthos scowled at Aramis' eye roll.

"We ate, you bottomless eating machine!" Aramis glanced at Athos who was closing the door to Charle's room.

"Yeah, but those were finger sandwiches at best," Porthos patted his stomach. "I need more than that ta fill me up."

"I finally got our petit to sleep?" Athos poured all of them some wine, handing the glasses out to his brothers.

"I bet Charles fought off taking a nap until the very end," swallowing his drink, Aramis savored the taste of the red liquid on his tongue.

"Our petit firebrand was a handful but once I read him a quick story," Athos smiled at the picture that brought to mind of Charles trying to listen but losing the battle with his eyelids, "he went out like a light."

"Did ya remember ta wrap 'im up good 'an tight?" Porthos shot Aramis a smug look. "Not like Mis here did last time."

Heat rose into his face as Aramis felt the childish need to stick out his tongue at Porthos, the latter throwing amused looks Athos' way. "I am never going to live that down am I?"

"Let us say twas not amusing to walk into the lad's room and have it smell to high heaven," Athos quirked an eyebrow. "I had to open all the windows to air it out."

"Constance gave me more linens to use," Aramis grimaced, thinking her tongue could be sharper than any Musketeer's blade at times. "She also voiced her opinion quite vocally about us asking her for more help when we need it instead of muddling along on our own."

"Oui," Athos was amused remembering Constance lecturing them last week. "Three bachelors alone never having raised a child... what were we thinking, eh?"

"I sure appreciate 'er 'elpin' me try ta teach our imp 'ow ta use the chamber pot." When both his brothers stared at him comically, Porthos was sorry he mentioned it.

"How is that going by the way?" Aramis smirked, knowing very well what was happening.

"Kid's aim could be better," Porthos grunted, hoping Athos didn't get on his case about it.

"That explains all the stains I've noticed lately on the hardwood floor," Athos remarked tongue in cheek, blue eyes twinkling. "Porthos, at least you haven't had the honor of our petit prince peeing on you as Charles has done on me several occasions now."

"Oy!" Porthos laughed, slapping the top of his thighs, nearly spilling out of his chair in the process. "What was life like before that whirlwind came into our lives?"

"Predictable," Aramis offered with a wry grin.

"Quiet," Athos smiled, now he savored those times all the more.

"We were in a rut," Porthos stood up to walk toward the garcon's room.

"I believe _ruts_ will now be a thing of the past," Athos announced. "What with running after our wild child, trips to the palace and even, heaven help us, visits with the cardinal looming ahead."

"They say children are supposed to keep the parents young," Aramis raised his second glass of wine in the air, as if in toast.

"One of these days," Athos drawled, "I would like to discover who _they_ are." His friends were amused at his comment, but Athos held a finger to his lips when the others began to laugh. "Shoosh! Do not wake our petit."

"We wouldn't dare," Aramis whispered theatrically.

"When the kid does wake what da we 'av lined up?" Porthos took a peek into the toddler's room. Closing the door, he gave his friends a thumbs up. "'E's still snoozin'."

"A picnic," Aramis suggested. "We have an entire afternoon before us," he rubbed his hands together. "And since we can't compete with Their Majesty's generosity to Charles in this way we can."

"Sometimes, Mis," Porthos clapped his brother on the back, "ya can come up with good ideas."

Twirling his Mustache, Aramis frowned. "Only _sometimes,_ mon ami?"

Heading off trouble, Porthos lifted a hand. "I'll go see what Serge can pack up for us." Quickly grabbing his doublet, weapon's belt and chapeau, Porthos was out the door in a flash.

"Tell Serge not to forget the wine!" Athos hollered out after him, wincing when he had forgotten his own words about keeping their voices down.

"Planning on introducing Charles to some fruit of the vine?" Aramis quietly jested.

"Nonsense!" Athos scoffed. "He's too young. I'm sure Serge has enough wits about him to pack some juice for the lad."

"When Porthos returns if our poppet is not yet up let's wake him so we can tell Charles of our surprise together." Aramis was looking forward to their outing as it's simply been ages since he had a good old fashioned picnic.

++++

_A short distance away from Paris_

"Aramis quit drowning our petit garcon!" Athos called out. He was enjoying himself chewing on a blade of grass, relaxing underneath the shade of several trees, while observing Aramis in the lake teaching their pup how to swim.

Their toddler's giggling reached out and touched all their bruised and battered hearts.

"I wouldn't go back ta what we 'ad before the kid came inta our lives for all the coin in the monarchy," Porthos bit into a fresh baguette, courtesy of old Serge. The former Musketeer, now cook for the Garrison, knew how to fill a picnic hamper.

"You make us all sound like war weary soldiers," Athos snorted. "Need I remind you that we are all only in our mid twenties?"

"Still, feels like a lifetime before Charles," Porthos handed Athos a hunk of cheese and a baguette, "don't it?"

"Actually," Athos polished off his lunch, adding some chicken to it along with a glass of wine, "It feels like another _life_ entirely." Removing his clothes, Athos stripped down to his braies and waded out into the cool water. "My turn, Aramis," he reached for Charles who eagerly went into his arms. "Do you like the water, mon ange?"

"Oui, papa Thos," Charles splashed his papa right in the face.

Wiping the water out of his eyes, Athos blinked a few times to clear his vision. Retaliation was sweet when Athos lifted Charles high into the air, never releasing him, and then plunked the moppet back down creating a huge spray of water to pour over both of them.

Sprawled out on a blanket, that Porthos had spread out for them, Aramis dried off in the sun. "We should do this more often," he ate on some grapes while keeping an eye on their son.

"Yeah, I think we will from now on," Porthos sat back against a huge log and closed his eyes.

"Aren't you going to join them?" Aramis continued eating, wondering why his brother was slow to answer.

"Water and me don't exactly hit it off," Porthos threw Aramis a chagrined look. "If'n ya know what I mean."

"I could teach you," Aramis offered. "So would Athos I'm sure." Listening to the toddler's giggles, he studied the other man. "Think of all the fun you'd be missing out upon with Charles."

"I'd sink like a stone," Porthos shook his head.

"We'd have you floating on your back so fast you'd be amazed. Just like Athos is doing with Charles right now." Finished eating a chicken leg, Aramis set aside his empty wine glass. Turning over onto his stomach he laid his head on folded arms, closing his eyes.

"I'll think about it," Porthos could see all the fun the kid was having. So he promised himself to take Aramis up on his kind offer soon.

++++

Later, Charles, Athos and Aramis were all dried off, happy and fed.

"Can we come back again?' Charles stood by as his papas were readying their horses for the journey home.

"Most definitely, mon petit," Athos reached down to swing Charles up front on Roger.

Leaning forward Charles wrapped his short arms, as far as they could go, around Roger's neck, giving him a hug and whispering soft words. Swinging its head to the side, Roger snorted softly back.

"Whelp's puttin' a spell on your horse, Athos," Porthos grinned, "just like the kid's done ta all of us."

"I can live with that," Athos observed the toddler giggling into his mount's ear. "I am sure Roger can as well."

Almost packed up and ready to set off, the inseparables' guard was down, having enjoyed a nearly perfect day. So when the malandrins came out of the woods, surrounding them, the Musketeers were caught weaponless. The only thing in their favor was the fact, since they were still off duty, they weren't wearing their pauldrons. Hopefully their lives wouldn't be forfeit, knowing that malcontents and other criminals hated the Musketeers and would gladly shoot them where they stood. All the inseparables instantly encircled Roger who carried their precious one on its back.

"We have nothing of value on us," Athos spoke up, holding his hands in the air. He noted all the men had the lower half of their faces covered so as not to be identified, which was the norm for cut-purses such as these.

"Just out for a picnic with our son," Aramis wished they had had time to put on their weapon's belt before these malandrins came upon them.

"Merde," a very young voice whispered.

Mouths falling open in shock, each Musketeer stared at the other.

"Don't look at me none," Porthos growled. "I ain't taught the kid that word."

"Nor me," Aramis quickly added.

"It appears, gentlemen, we'll have to watch our p's and q's around petit ears," Athos winced, imagining their precocious pup speaking thusly when in the presence of Their Majestys. He shuddered at the thought, it didn't bear thinking upon.

Suffering the indignity of being searched, the inseparables were more than worried for the safety of their son than for themselves.

"They weren't lying" one man said to their leader in disgust. "Nothing here worth taking."

"Oh I wouldn't say that," the leader looked straight at the petit garcon sitting silently on the black horse.

Seeing where the canaille's eyes had settled, the Musketeers closed ranks even tighter around Charles.

The leader nodded his head at one of his men.

As the cut-purse pulled his horse abreast, he reached out to pluck the child out of the saddle and placed the petit in front of him.

" _NON_!" the inseparables all cried out in dread. But with pistols aimed in their direction they couldn't retaliate and even if they could there was the risk of Charles getting hurt in the crossfire.

"I'll kill you!" Athos growled. "There won't be any place safe for you to hide!"

"Big words," the leader chuckled. "You haven't anything to back them up with that I can see."

"You're makin' a big mistake! Bigger than you realize!" Porthos was ready to tear the leader apart and feed what was left of him to the vultures.

"Apparently you do not value your lives," Aramis calmly voiced, though a fire burned in his heart. Terrified for his son, he dared not agitate the canaille any further.

"I'm soooo scared I'm shaking in my boots," the leader continued to laugh as his man handed the child over to him.

Scared, but trying not to show it, Charle's thumb traveled into his mouth where he sucked on it furiously. As the bad man held him tightly, he began to squirm. When the man tugged viciously on his hair, Charles banged the back of his head hard against the awful man's chin.

"Ow!" the leader rubbed at the ache. "You're going to pay for that later!" he hissed.

"Touch one hair on his head and you're a dead man!" Aramis yelled, forgetting that he wasn't going to anger the cut-purse.

"That other one already threatened me," the leader's eyes gleamed maliciously. "His words rolled right off my back just likes yours," he cackled. "At least my time here hasn't been a complete waste." Signaling two of his men, he watched as they released his victim's horses to go off into the woods. "Enjoy your walk back to Paris." Turning his horse around he and the rest of his band left the area.

Twisting in the saddle, Charle's cried out, tears rolling down his face. " _PAPAS_!"

"We just gonna let 'em take off with our kid!" Porthos pulled at his hair.

"Our horses didn't go far," Athos pointed out to where they stood near the edge of the lake waiting for them.

Aramis walked over to another blanket that was all rolled up. "They made a grave error in judgment in not searching this." Unrolling it, their weapons gleamed in the sunlight.

"I forgot we kept 'em in their ta keep 'em from gettin' all wet," Porthos went over to retrieve his musket, sword and pistol. "Now I wanna piece of 'em!"

"We all do!" Athos snapped, running a hand through his hair. "But there are only three of us and there were at least ten of them."

Knowing what Athos had left unsaid, Aramis jumped on Belle. "I'll have Treville and a unit of Musketeers here in under twenty minutes."

"We'll go on ahead and leave a trail for you to follow," Athos threw himself on top of Roger, kneeing his mount in the sides they took off with Porthos abreast of him.

++++

True to his word, Aramis, Captain Treville and a squad of eight Musketeers caught up to Athos and Porthos within the time-frame the marksman had given.

"What are we looking at, gents?" Treville was spitting mad that those cut-purses took petit Charles. Only God knew what they were going to do with the lad. He had heard unspeakable things of children being sold into slavery or even worse, and Treville vowed none of that would ever happen to their _heart of the Garrison_.

"They're just up ahead," Porthos held Roulette's reins in a vise-like grip, wishing instead that his hands were wrapped tightly around that rogue's neck. "They stopped for some reason."

"We have to be careful to not injure Charles," Athos gravely reminded all of them.

"Amazing how everything could go to hell in a handbasket after Charle's romp at the palace today," Treville remarked more to himself than to his men.

"Gettin' caught with our pants down," Porthos said gruffly, "ain't ever gonna 'appen agin' when the whelp's in our care."

"Let's go get Charles back, gents!" Treville held up his hand, signaling his men to fan out. Waiting until his soldiers had encircled the canailles, he made sure they were in position. Firing his pistol into the air, Treville's voice roared over that of his Musketeers as they charged the malandrins taking them by surprise this time.

The leader's horse reared up on two legs, being startled from the shot. Holding firmly to the child, he drew out his pistol as did his men. It was when he noted the pauldrons on the shoulders of their attackers, converging on them from all sides, that his confidence faltered. He hadn't bargained on Musketeers and he had to wonder how they found them so fast.

"Give the garcon back to us!" Athos demanded, brandishing his pistol in one hand and sword in the other.

That one held authority in his voice, the leader of the malandrins thought, and then it hit him. "You and your friends are with them... _Musketeers_?" He looked down upon the child in his arms, who had tried telling him his peres belonged to the king's regiment but he thought it only a garcon's fantasy. If he had realized that from the beginning, he'd have never stolen the petit.

"Told you!" Charles piped up. "That's my _papa Thos_ , _papa Mis_ and _papa Porth_... _Muskyteers_!" he stuck out his chin.

"Brat!" the leader snarled.

"Batard!" Charles swiftly retorted.

Eyebrows shooting up to his receding hairline, Treville wasn't sure who was more shocked... the leader of this band or himself. Glancing at three very embarrassed Musketeers, Treville would reprimand them later upon Charle's word choices.

"Hand over the kid now!" Porthos growled.

"If you do not then prepare to shortly look like Swiss cheese," Aramis gave the leader a cheeky grin and a tip of his chapeau.

The only card the leader had to play in his hand was the garcon. "What? You'd risk your son getting hurt," he didn't feel they would.

"We'd relieve you of our petit before that would occur," Athos' grim face told its own story of what would happen to the canaille if he didn't surrender immediately.

Thinking twice on it and knowing they were outnumbered, the leader threw his pistol on the ground and raised his hands. His men did likewise.

"Now ya show some sort of sense," Porthos got down from Roulette and went over to get his son.

When Charles was finally in the safety of one of his papas, he wiped at his eyes. Sniffling, he tucked his head under papa Porth' chin. "I wasn't afraid. Honest."

Dropping a kiss on top of the petit's head, Porthos smiled. "Naw, knew ya weren't, squirt."

Nervously waiting his turn, Aramis took Charles into his arms. Kissing his sweet face all over, he held the garcon close. "You are unharmed?" his eyes made quick work of looking Charles over.

"Oui," snuggling into papa Mis, Charles sighed. "I told that bad man you were _Muskyteers_. Didn't believe me," he pouted. Feeling his papa's chest vibrating, Charles peeked up at him.

"You have dubbed us with a new name, mon petit," Aramis kept laughing knowing that his son didn't quite get it.

Snatching Charles from his brother, Athos ran a gentle hand over the toddler's head. Enfolding his son in his arms, he rocked the petit back and forth. "If anything were ever to happen to you I just... I just...," he closed his eyes, not able to convey how deeply he felt. Feeling a hand on either side of his face pat his cheeks, Athos opened his eyes to gaze into the concerned ones looking back at him so earnestly.

"I love you too, papa Thos," smiling sweetly at him, Charles nestled in his papa's arms.

The awwww moment over, Athos gazed down upon the pup, trying to appear stern. "Once we are home you and I need to have a talk about certain words you shouldn't repeat."

"At least not until you're old enough ta get away with it, kid," Porthos winked.

"Even if I hear all of you say them?" Charles innocently added.

"Hoisted on your own petards, gents," Treville laughed, gathered the rest of his men along with the criminals they just arrested, and headed back to the Garrison.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spanking warning in this chapter. Not very much and it's not done by the inseparables.
> 
> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, early evening – the inseparable’s home_

“Charles, if ever you hear any of us use language you’re unfamiliar with,” Athos held up his finger, “do not repeat it until you ask us first if tis all right to do so.”

Thumb hovering near his mouth, Charles frowned. “But what if I hear it from someone else?”

“Then tell us what you overheard later just don’t repeat anything until you check with us first.” Athos hadn’t realized how much there was to raising a child. The fright given to him, and that of his brothers, today was more than enough to turn his hair instantly grey like Treville’s.

Mulling it over, Charles smiled sweetly. “Oui, papa Thos,” he bobbed his head in understanding. “No naughty words.”

Placing a kiss on the toddler’s forehead, Athos turned over the nightly ritual of putting their petit to bed to Aramis tonight. With an amused look at his brother he couldn’t help but tease him. “The linens are laid out for you on the bed,” he smirked. “Make sure Charles is comfortable if you would.”

Rolling his eyes, Aramis carried the garcon away, muttering to himself that it was only that _one_ time. Pushing the tyke’s bedroom door open, he went to work.

++++

_Next day, not yet past nine in the morning  
_

“You have everything you need on your list? Aramis asked Porthos, who was currently dealing with a giggling petit Gascon riding piggy back on his brother’s back.

“Yup!” Porthos winked at the poppet who was resting his chin on Porthos’ shoulder. “It’ll be the kid’s first time at the marketplace so don’t expect us back right away.”

“Just take care,” Athos would have gone with them but had things still needing taken care of in their new house. The main one being making it _Charles-proof_ so that their petit garcon wouldn’t get accidentally hurt on anything. “I do not need any more grief,” he grumbled. “Already I found two grey hairs this morning.”

“Ya gonna blame our kid for that?” Porthos laughed, noting Athos’ sour face and warning glare.

Aramis, likewise, couldn’t go along because Cayn had been taken ill and Captain Treville needed a last minute replacement to train their recruits. Cayn was their second best sharpshooter in the regiment and so Aramis couldn’t turn down the captain’s request. “Oui, do not let Charles get kidnapped today if at all possible.”

“Ya both act like I’m gonna lose our youngest,” Porthos felt slighted.

“After what took place yesterday,’ Athos arched a brow, “can you blame us for being concerned?”

Shaking his head, Porthos relaxed. “Nah, feelin’s mutual.” When Charle’s hands covered Porthos’ eyes, and he heard the young faquin giggle, he gently removed them. “I need ta see ta get ta Roulette,” he chuckled, walking out the door with the lad hanging onto his back like a petite monkey.

“Is where we’re going big?” Charles was excited about their trip into the city and couldn’t wait to get there. When papa Porth settled behind him, Charles leaned back against him with a contented sigh.

“Ya could say that, squirt,” Porthos wrapped one arm securely around the pup, while the other held the reins. “There’s a variety of stalls in the market,” he reached up to tweak Charle’s nose and heard the lad giggle again. “From homemade food, handmade furniture, homegrown fruits and vegetables to handwoven materials,” Porthos also went on to add, “and wooden toys for good petit garcons from Gascony.”

Though Charle’s things had arrived from Lupiac days ago, Porthos was just as surprised as his brothers that it didn’t seem like the child had very many toys or else Monsieur d’Artagnan’s retainers hadn’t packed all of them. Considering the events of yesterday, Porthos figured it wouldn’t hurt to spoil the kid some.

"Toys?" Charle's eyes lit up at the word. "I'd like a Muskyteer wooden soldier."

A hearty laugh escaped Porthos, getting a kick out of what the tidbit referred to them as. "We'll see what they ‘ave, whelp."

++++

_Streets of Paris - Marketplace_

The kid's eyes couldn't have opened any wider even if they had wanted to as Porthos watched Charles take everything in.

"We had one back home," Charle's eyes grew sad thinking of how he and his real papa would shop the local markets together.

"Big as this one?" Porthos knew what his son had been thinking and vowed to put a smile back on the imp's face.

"Smaller," Charles whispered, trying to remember happier times back in Lupiac. He was startled out of his thoughts though when he heard someone shout out his papa Porth' name. Swiveling his head around Charles saw someone waving at them.

"Come on," Porthos grabbed Charle's hand. "I need to speak to Pierre for a minute." His _minute_ turned into nearly half an hour. So when Porthos was done he expected the kid to be by his side. Instead, Charles was nowhere to be found. "Mon Dieu!" his heart dropped down to the soles of his feet. "Athos will kill me!" Frantically he went from stall to stall asking everyone if they had seen the petit Gascon. All of them said they hadn't but would keep an eye out for the toddler. Thus began a fruitless search for Charles, all the while Porthos felt sick with fear.

Some twenty or so minutes later, Madame Claire signaled to him. Porthos rushed over to her stall praying dearly that she knew where the whelp was. "You've seen 'im?"

She'd rarely had cause to see real fear in the dark-skinned Musketeer before and so was pleased to be of some help as Porthos had aided her in the past. "Non, not I, but Camus came over and told me he'd spied the garcon at Yvain's stall."

"Merci, Madame," Porthos was so very grateful that he almost went down on his knees in thanks. Knowing that Yvain sold wooden toys, Porthos could have slapped himself silly in not thinking of that in the first place. Of all the stalls here that one would have attracted Charles like nothing else. Thinking Athos had the right of it, Porthos wondered if any of the merchants sold leashes for his petit troublemaker.

"Charles!" Porthos bellowed as he made his way over to Yvain’s stall, making his son nearly jump in the air. "I've been huntin' ya high and low!" Bending down he picked the pup up. Scowling, Porthos was clearly irritated with the kid. "You weren't ta leave my side."

Glancing from his papa Porth to where all the toys were lined up, Charles heaved a great sigh. "You talked and talked forever," he pouted. "Wanted to see the toys."

"Oy!" Porthos kissed the garcon's cheek, his fear a thing of the past now that Charles was safe and sound. "I'm a sucker for your pout," he chuckled as did Yvain. "Let's see what I can find for ya." Exchanging a wry grin with Yvain, Porthos watched Charles pick out the toys he wanted.

“You have yourself a livewire in that petit,” Yvain smiled at the child, watching Charles handle a toy wooden sword.

“Ain’t that the truth of it?” If Porthos were lucky Athos and Aramis would never hear of this.

++++

Roulette's saddlebags were overflowing with Porthos' purchases. So much so that he had to tie the sack filled with toys to his saddle horn. "Athos is gonna brain me for spendin' so much coin on your toys, whelp."

"Papa Thos won't mind," Charle's gamin grin lit up his entire face. “He loves me.”

"Out of the mouths of babes," Porthos shook his head, hoping the kid was right.

++++

_Back at the house_

After arriving home Porthos made a light snack for Charles hoping that would occupy the kid for a time. Then he went about putting all their goods away. But he had forgotten to place Charle’s bag of toys in the lad’s room. Before he could do anything about it, Porthos heard their front door open and close. With his back turned away, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that it was Athos when his brother began swearing a blue streak making Porthos’ ears hurt.

"Did you manage to buy out Yvain's entire stall?" Athos glowered at his huge friend who, given the opportunity, looked like he'd rather be anywhere but here.

Sheepishly Porthos ducked his head in the face of the older man’s ire. "Not the _entire_ stall," he mumbled.

"So I see," Athos snapped, rubbing the back of his neck. "You're going to spoil our son rotten I can see that now."

Snorting, Porthos took exception to that remark coming from Athos. "And ya ain't?"

"We're not talking about me," Athos sighed. "Pffft! What's done is done." Hearing the door behind him creak open, Athos turned his head and encountered Aramis' pleased expression. "Finished already?"

"I'm happy to say that there were only four I had to give lessons to," Aramis removed his doublet and chapeau, hanging them both on a rack. "They actually managed to hit their targets."

"So miracles do happen," Athos commented drolly. "What is the world coming to?"

Laughing at that, Aramis remembered something he was to tell Porthos. "By the way, Porthos, I passed the marketplace on the way home and a most curious thing happened," he noted his brother shaking his head vigorously at him but didn't understand the reason for it. "Madame Claire asked me how Charles fared after his adventure?"

"How would she have known about yesterday's events?" Athos' lips thinned. Staring at Porthos, he had a feeling that Madame Claire wasn't referring to the attempted kidnapping of their son.

Knowing it would come out sooner or later, _sooner_ in this case, Porthos came clean. "I sorta lost the whelp for a short time."

" _YOU WHAT?_ " Athos roared so loud that Aramis actually covered his ears. Poor Porthos looked ready to head for the hills or at least back to the Garrison for safety.

"Ya 'eard me!" Porthos shouted back.

"After I told you to be careful!" Athos knew his voice probably carried into Charle's room but he couldn't contain his anger if he tried.

"Athos," Aramis tried to intervene but when Athos turned that glare of his upon him he backed away.

"I was talkin' ta Pierre and time got away from me. I told Charles ta stay put but the kid wanted ta see the toys more than listen ta me."

"Judging by the amount you purchased," Athos huffed, "Charles more than _saw_ them."

"Yeah," Porthos grunted, having no defense against the truth of that.

Athos was on a roll and not about to let this drop anytime soon but when he was about to say more their petit whirlwind came out of his room.

"See my wooden sword?" Charles proudly displayed his toy to papa Thos and papa Mis. Gazing solemnly up at his papa Thos he asked, "Would you teach me to use it?"

Apparently the toddler hadn't heard Athos getting angry with Porthos and for that he was very glad. He was more than pleased, and slightly amused as well, at his son's request. Athos went down on one knee in front of the petit. "I'd love to but it wouldn't be quite fair seeing that you only have a toy sword and I have a real one."

Seeing the beginnings of a smile quickly fall from Charle's eager face Aramis said, "What Athos meant was that he didn't want you to hurt yourself which you easily could crossing swords with only that," he tapped the toy sword, "as your weapon."

Athos smiled tightly seeing how crestfallen Charles now appeared. Tipping his son's face up with a finger under the tyke's chin, a better idea came to him. "Until you are older and can handle a real blade I'll set up a practice dummy for you to work with. This way I won't worry about you coming to harm."

" _YAY!_ " Charles was so delighted that he began dancing in circles around his papa Thos.

"I'll be coaching you as well, Charles," Athos grabbed the lad by the arm to halt the child's progress, as the petit was making him dizzy.

"What other toys did you get?' Aramis figured that Porthos wouldn't have stopped at buying their son only one.

"Got a soldier," Charles glanced up at both of his papas, "not Muskyteers though," he wondered why everyone laughed when he said that word but didn’t let it worry him. Counting off on his fingers he listed the rest of his toys. "A top, dobby horse, puppets," he chewed on a finger thinking that he left something out. "Oh and a spinning wheel too."

Whistling through his teeth, Aramis glanced at Porthos' flushed face. "Quite a hall that."

"Mmmmm," Charles happily hummed agreeing with his papa Mis. "I'm going back to play with my toys now." 

Observing the moppet run back into his room, Aramis looked at his brothers with a twinkle in his eyes. "Today tis toys but just think when our young one grows older we can teach him how to beat us at checkers, chess and cards."

"Parbleu!" Athos threw his hands up in the air. "Tis all we need! Another card shark in the family," he shot Porthos a very long, aggravated look.

"Hey!" Porthos barked. "Why ya lookin' at me that way?"

"Now, now," Aramis played referee. "I think Athos you're still upset with him for losing Charles."

"I didn't _lose_ the kid!" Porthos growled in frustration with both of his friends.

Folding his arms, Aramis quirked a brow imitating Athos to near perfection. "What would you call it then, eh?”

"Misplaced 'im for a time is all," Porthos looked anywhere but at Athos' dour features and Aramis’ amused one.

"Semantics," Athos bit out. "Next time we all go to the market together."

"Strengths in numbers," Aramis chuckled. "I can work with that."

++++

_Early afternoon - the Garrison_

Now that everything had been sorted out at home, Athos thought they'd take their petit mischief maker to the Garrison for the rest of the day.

Visiting with everyone Charles particularly enjoyed watching the soldiers practice sparring, especially with their swords. Brandishing his own wooden toy sword the other Musketeers offered to show him some moves, under the watchful eye of his papa Thos of course.

"Charles and I have already been over this," Athos told the men. "I do not want the lad to hurt himself" his lips curled upward, "but you may exhibit your skill without involving the garcon in any way." Glancing down at the toddler, Athos rested a hand on top of Charle's head. "Understand you are just to watch. Nothing more." Getting a vigorous head nod back, Athos signaled the rest of the Musketeers to go ahead.

++++

_Courtyard_

It had been fun for Charles to watch the Musketeers train and they had told him to come by anytime. His papas were going to take him to the stables next but someone needed to speak with them first. It seemed to Charles that his papas were in great demand, popular everywhere they went which pleased Charles greatly since he now belonged to them. Papa Thos told him to sit at one of the benches while they found out what Renee and Adrian needed.

"You are not to move from this spot," Athos warned the lad, "as we'll not be far away and I will have you in view at all times."

"Oui, papa Thos." Feeling his hair ruffled, Charles batted his papa's hand away. He hoped they wouldn't be as long as papa Porth was at the marketplace or he would become bored. While he was trying to remember some of the moves the other Musketeers had shown him, Charles spotted a bowl sitting all by itself on top of the bench. Seeing the only fruit left in it was an apple, his favorite, Charles figured he could get one of his papas to slice it up for him so he plucked it out of the bowl.

Well there was someone else who had his eye on that apple. Dupont was just about to reach for it but the garcon's hands were faster and he missed his chance.

Seeing the harsh glare the Musketeer gave him, Charles knew the stranger was upset with him. When the man said a naughty word, Charles quickly covered his ears.

“Look, kid,” Dupont made sure the inseparables weren’t looking his way as he leaned down into the brat’s face, “that was _my_ apple.”

Sticking out his chin Charles gripped his apple tightly in both hands, not about to give it up to this man who he instantly disliked. “You weren’t around when I took it.”

Knowing the garcon had a point, Dupont didn’t care. “I was coming back for it later.” Angered greatly, he strode away as he really wasn’t in the mood to deal with any of the inseparables over this.

++++

Not bothering to tell his papas about the incident, Charles enjoyed his snack. Afterwards they took him to the Garrison stables. Since he had lived on a farm, Charles loved animals especially horses. Despite how young he was his real papa had allowed him to feed their own horses all by himself. When they all went inside his papas showed Charles where they kept the oats and hay and, much to his surprise, let him feed the horses too.

"Do you want any help?" Aramis asked, watching his petit fill the buckets full of oats.

"Non," Charles kept filling the buckets. "I've done it before."

Not wanting to make the lad nervous, Athos figured it wouldn't hurt if he and his brothers left Charles alone. "We'll be right outside if you need us," Athos could tell that the garcon was in his element now. He made a mental note to look into buying a pony for his son. If Porthos was going to spoil the lad with toys Athos might as well with a pony.

"I'll be fine, papa Thos." Engrossed with caring for the horses, Charles didn't hear someone later enter the stables. It wasn't until one of the horses in another stall began acting up, snorting and stomping its hooves, that Charles saw the same man who got mad at him earlier over the apple. This time the Musketeer was hitting the horse with a riding crop. Going up behind the adult, Charles smacked him quite hard on both knees with his wooden sword trying to stop the Musketeer from hurting the animal.

Dropping the riding crop, grabbing his sore knees, Dupont swore. "Merde!" Picking the struggling brat up by the kid's arms he went over and sat down on top of an empty barrel. Throwing the garcon over his legs Dupont began spanking the child's rear end with several harsh blows. When he was satisfied that Charles had been punished enough, Dupont then set Charles back on his feet. "Next time I won't be so gentle," he sneered. "And don't think of telling any of your papas about this either or next time you'll be sorry." Shoving the toddler away from him Dupont hissed, "Now get out of my sight!"

Refusing to cry in front of this soldier, Charles spoke up. "You're a _bad man_ hitting your horse!" sticking out his tongue, he rubbed his tender butt and marched out of the stable with his head up high. Tears gathered in his eyes but Charles refused to let them fall. Looking around he didn't see his papas where they said they'd be. Instead they were near the horse trough talking with Captain Treville. Figuring they didn't hear what happened inside the stable Charles decided to keep quiet about it, just like that Musketeer had warned him.

++++

_The ride back home_

Knowing that their pup had fun today, it was odd how subdued Charles had become all of a sudden. Athos wasn't alone in his concern, as he noted the same worry reflected on his brothers faces. Thinking that the change in demeanor meant something else, Athos held Charles closer to his chest. Pulling on the reins slightly for Roger to slow his pace, he peered into his son's eyes. "Are you feeling ill?" Not getting a response, other than noting Charles sucking on his thumb again, Athos exchanged a helpless look with Porthos who was riding abreast.

"Think the kid's gettin' sick?"

"I just felt his forehead and there's no sign of fever," Athos shrugged. "He was so happy earlier I don't know what could have happened. I am at a loss."

"Maybe 'e's just worn out," Porthos said. "It's been a rather long day considerin'."

"Perhaps you're right," Athos agreed.

"Maybe it was that apple Charles ate," Aramis offered. "Could have been rotten."

"Didn't look that way ta me," Porthos shook his head.

"Gentlemen," Athos held up a hand, "we'll sort this out later. Let's just get home."

++++

_The inseparable's residence_

Having already gotten out of his clothes, without needing any help, Charles already had his nightshirt on and was in bed waiting for one of his papas to come in and read him a story. Since his rear end still smarted, Charles laid on his side right side. When papa Mis came in he scooted over a bit for him to sit on the bed.

Running his fingers soothingly through his son's hair, Aramis glided his hand over Charle's forehead feeling for a fever. Satisfied that the garcon's skin felt cool, Aramis was ready to read to the petit. But before he began Aramis noted the sleeves of the child's nightshirt had ridden up exposing the lad's arms. "Zut!"

"Ooooo, papa Mis... naughty word," Charles admonished.

Gently taking his son's right arm first, Aramis examined it carefully and then took a look at the left one. There were dark bruises marring the tender flesh on both of them. Holding back his anger, Aramis calmed himself down just barely. "Charles, these marks on your arms," he noted the fright that filled the garcon's eyes, "how came you to have them?"

"I fell," Charles lied, praying that papa Mis would drop the subject.

"Did it happen when you were at the marketplace away from Porthos?"

"Don't remember," Charles mumbled, starting to turn on his other side away from papa Mis' probing eyes. But his papa had other ideas as a gentle hand prevented him from doing that.

 Aramis was even angrier when he pushed the sleeves of the nightshirt up further and saw more bruises. Though these ones appeared to be in the shape of fingerprints. Someone had abused his son and Aramis would make them sorry they were ever born.

++++

_Notes:_

A dobby horse was a long wooden shaft with a horse's head on the top with handles right below the head that you could hold onto. You then put it between your legs and run around with it, pretending that you're riding a real horse. I had one as a small child and they were alot of fun. They were really quite popular with children.

A spinning wheel was a circular wheel pushed with a stick.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Letting you know that our petit will be suffering another mishap... You have been warned. LOL!
> 
> ++++

_Same Night – Inseparable’s residence_

Closing the door as quietly as he could, so as not to wake up Charles, Aramis stepped out of the room. After having read one of the lad’s favorite bedtime stories, the petit garcon’s eyes finally slipped closed. Leaning back against the door Aramis tightly shut his eyes, trying to keep his anger at bay as he felt it beginning to return in full force.

“Kid settle all right, Mis?”

Dark eyes flashing dangerously, Aramis snapped. “Non, Charles is far from fine!” he grabbed Porthos by the arm and dragged his brother over to where Athos sat reading a book.

Tugging his arm free, Porthos observed how agitated Aramis appeared. “Ya went in there ta read the whelp a story and now ya look like a fire breathin’ dragin’ from one of the kid’s books.”

“Our pup’s arms are littered with bruises,” Aramis blurted out. It wasn’t exactly how he wanted to tell his friends but his emotions had gotten the better of him. He felt especially worse when Athos jerked out of his chair, like one of Charle’s puppets, dropping his book onto the floor and tipping over his glass of wine in the process.

“Bruises!” Athos growled. If someone had touched one hair of his son’s head he’d beat them to a pulp. Around the area most people believed that it was only Porthos who could mete out that type of punishment. Given the right incentives, Athos could match Porthos in brute strength.

“Our petit told me that he had fallen but couldn’t remember where it had happened,” Aramis huffed, running a hand through his curls until they were a tangled mess. “I was going to leave it for later as I could see Charles didn’t want to speak upon it except I discovered even more bruising.”

“Aramis!” Athos hissed, knowing there was more to come that he would not enjoy hearing.

“He has fingerprint marks on his upper arms,” Aramis kicked out at the nearest chair, wishing it had been the person responsible for hurting his son instead.

“Merde!” Porthos swore. “That’s why the kid was so quiet on the way home.”

“Who would have dared to do such a thing and risk our wrath?” If the individual who had caused such pain to Charles had been standing in front of him Athos would have happily run the canaille through with his rapier, forgetting how just mere moments before he had been entertaining the idea of beating the person with his bare fists instead.

“It couldn’t ‘ave been while we were at market,” Porthos rubbed at his beard, “even though the whelp wasn’t with me the entire time.” Catching the arched brow from Athos along with the frown marring Aramis’ face he quickly added, “The kid had been over at the toy stall and in good spirits remember?”

“When was there opportunity then?” Aramis tried to think hard on what they had been doing together and where they had been yesterday.

“Tomorrow we will all go back to the Garrison to question the men there to see if anyone saw what took place or anything that didn’t seem right at the time,” emotions ragged, Athos threw a punch at the wall causing bits of plaster to come loose.

"Ya know I'm gonna 'ave ta paint over that again," Porthos grunted in displeasure.

"Be happy that wasn't your face," Athos retorted. If someone wanted to come after him that was one thing. But this involved his son and no excuse would satisfy Athos as to why this was done to the garcon.

“Right then,” Porthos knew that when Athos got like this it was better to leave his brother alone. Even though he was just as angry, Porthos would retaliate when he had the guilty party by the throat. So he headed for his room. “I say we call it a night and get an early start on the morrow.”

“I’ll close up everything and turn in myself,” Aramis began going around the house locking things up tight.

Mulling over everything they knew up to this point, which was very little, Athos came to realize that if Charles received those bruises while at the Garrison it could possibly mean one of his other brother-in-arms was responsible. It was an unthinkable prospect but not one Athos would quickly set aside. It left a sour taste in his mouth thinking it could be so, but there was no other conclusion to draw from at the moment.

Knowing he would not get a good night’s sleep dwelling over this, Athos went into Charle's room where he stripped off his clothing down to his braies. He then crawled under the covers to be close to his petit.

Feeling the bed dip slightly, Charles turned over on his side mumbling in his sleep. Catching the familiar scent of his papa Thos, he happily snuggled into him until Charle’s head rested on his papa’s chest leaving him feeling safe and secure.

Dropping a light kiss on the pup’s head, Athos surprisingly found himself drifting off to sleep with his arms full of his petit Gascon.

++++

_Next day, early morning_

“ _NON!_ Don’t want to go!” Charles cried out and was about to run back to his room but found his escape blocked by his papa Porth’ huge body.

“What’s all that yammerin’ goin’ on?” Porthos yawned, stretching his muscles to get the kinks out of them. “Woke me up out of a sound sleep I tell ya," he yawned again cracking his jaw. "Even though I knew we'd be gettin' up early I still coulda slept in a few extra minutes.”

“Yeah, me too,” Aramis dragged himself to the kitchen table. Hands on hips, he studied what looked to him like a Mexican stand-off. Charle's defiant face, in other circumstances would have been adorable, was glaring up at Athos. He wanted to laugh at the picture it presented with his older friend glowering down at the tyke’s stubborn stance. “Charming as this appears,” Aramis grinned, “may I ask what brought this about?”

“I told Charles we were all going to the Garrison and he’s throwing a fit,” Athos didn’t want to fight with the garcon over this. Initially he hadn’t wanted to think this way but with his son’s actions Athos believed whatever happened to the lad had taken place at the Garrison. For Charles would never willingly decline a visit there, including seeing Serge who always had a treat for their child. But the tyke's reaction this morning spoke louder than words ever could.

"Come, Charles," Aramis knelt down in front of the poppet. "You'll get to visit with our captain, perhaps even help Serge in the kitchen, and" he poked his son gently in the stomach, "see the horses again."

"Also," Porthos stood behind the whelp tugging on his son's hair, "ya might get ta see the king and queen while we’re there."

Both Athos and Aramis noted that the added benefit of a possible visit with Their Majestys may have just been the incentive Charles needed. They watched while their son weighed his options.

Staring hard at his thumb Charles was debating with himself whether to put it in his mouth. When papa Porth told him that maybe he'd get to go to the palace, Charles brightened up considerably at the prospect of a visit with King Louis and Queen Anne. Not to mention having a chance again to sit on his own petit throne that they had gifted him with. Gazing up at his papa Thos, Charles held out his hand to be taken. "Are we going now?"

"Apparently," Athos rolled his eyes, grabbed his chapeau and slapped it on his head. "What is everyone standing about for," he waved his hand at them. "We're leaving."

“What about breakfast?” Porthos was hungry, then again he always woke up that way. This morning wasn’t any different.

“We’ll have Serge make us something once we get to the Garrison,” Athos took Charles by the hand and led him outside.

++++

_Garrison_

Serge was delighted to see them and more than happy to fix them all breakfast. He even put Charles to work having the lad help carry a plate of freshly baked rolls to the table. After everyone had their fill the inseparables, and Charles, thanked the former Musketeer. Departing they headed for the stable.  

“Come, Charles,” Aramis patted the petit’s bottom lightly in a gentle push toward the stable doors. Noting his son wince slightly, he frowned wondering what that was all about. He reminded himself to ask Charles about it later.

While Aramis kept the tyke occupied, Athos and Porthos went around questioning the men if they had seen anyone else around their son yesterday.

"I remember when we were all talking together that Dupont had appeared at the bench where Charles had been sitting," Germain offered.

"Oh he was there," Dufort snorted. "Funny that. Cause it seemed to me as if Charles and Dupont were haggling over a piece of fruit," he chuckled. "Then again it could have been my imagination. I should have pointed it out while we were speaking but then I got engrossed in our conversation and forgot."

"Did you see anythin' else suspicious goin' on while our backs were turned?" Porthos didn't want to believe one of his brothers was capable of hurting a child less alone his own kid. If it ended up being another Musketeer, Porthos would kick his butt out of the Garrison before Captain Treville could relieve the man of his commission.

"Dupont walked away in a snit as far as I could tell," Dufort noted the stormy look that entered Porthos' and Athos' faces.

"Why?" Germain asked. "Did something happen to the petit? Is that what the questions are in aid of?"

"Someone hurt our kid!" Porthos growled. "'E 'ad bruises all over his arms."

Seeing the other two Musketeers glance at one another with grave looks, Athos got another bad feeling. "Is there something more going on that Porthos and I need to know about?"

"Dupont has a reputation of being surly at the best of times," Germain pointed out. "You should know that by now, Athos. You've dealt with him many a time." He felt badly speaking out against one of his own but Dupont didn't get on well with many and Germain had seen the Musketeer near the child.

"It may not have been him but tis a start at least," Athos dipped his head. "Merci, my brothers, for your input. Porthos and I still need to find out if anyone may have seen a stranger lurking about the stables where Charles was last."

"If we find out anything we'll be sure to let you know, Athos," Dufort said before departing.

++++

Walking around the courtyard both Athos and Porthos would periodically stop and chat up other Musketeer brothers, questioning them as they continued on their way through the grounds.

"We couldn't help but overhear what you were talking to the others about, "Eustis joined them along with several other men. "You're referring to yesterday, oui."

"That's right," Porthos' eyes narrowed. "Ya seen somethin' then?"

"I noticed Dupont coming out of the stable shortly after all of you left," Merle glanced at Eustis for confirmation as the other man had been with him.

Eustis nodded. "Yeah. I remember his face looked like a thundercloud and wondered what had Dupont all riled up."

Snickering Paul added, "It doesn't take much to set Dupont off. Quick temper that one has."

"Merde!" Porthos' dark eyes were filled with fury as was Athos'.

"Tis too much of a coincidence considering what we found out earlier." Athos was trying to digest what they've discovered so far when he noted Aramis coming out of the stables without their son. "Where's Charles?"

"In his element grooming one of the horses," Aramis smiled remembering how happy Charles was when he left him.

" _Grooming_? But the child's only three," Eustis thought Aramis was jesting.

"Charles just informed me that his real papa used to get a stool for him to stand on so that he could brush out their horse's manes and tails," Aramis chuckled. "Tis about as far as our petit's _grooming_ goes."

"Do you not feel after what happened that Charles should not be left alone?" Call him paranoid, but Athos didn't want to tempt fate a second time.

"There's no one else in there," Aramis noted twin set of scowls directed at him. Sighing he shook his head. "Fine! But before I go back inside any clue yet as to who hurt our pup?"

While the inseparables discussed the possibility of Dupont's involvement, unbeknownst to them the man they were ready to accuse entered the stable from the rear of the building where none of the Musketeers could see him.

++++

_Stable_

Not realizing that the inseparables were tracing leads into what happened to the garcon, Dupont went to check on his own horse. Where, much to his dismay, he found the brat from yesterday. He wasn't in the mood to deal with the child or put up with the Gascon's sass.

Fed up with finding Charles underfoot again, Dupont's temper got the better of him. So taking his riding crop out he silently approached the other horse, sneaking up from behind. As the Gascon was busy brushing the mount's mane, Charles wouldn't see him. Raising the crop high Dupont brought it down with a hard whack to the horse's rump.

After inflicting the damage, he backed away observing the horse rear up and strike out with its hooves. Seeing the child knocked off the stool, crumpling to the ground, filled Dupont with extreme satisfaction as he slipped out of the stable the same way he had entered.

++++

When Aramis had gone back inside the stable, he was horrified to discover his son lying on the ground while the horse Charles had been tending appeared terrified. First he had to calm the horse down and get the mount away from the petit. Once that was accomplished Aramis knelt down by the garcon's side to see how badly Charles was hurt.

The lad wasn't moving and Aramis could see blood, thick and red, pouring from a wound to Charle's head. It wasn't hard to see that the horse had clipped the child with its hoof. What had gone wrong in the few minutes Aramis had been gone would have to wait. For now tending to his pup was the important thing.

" _ATHOS! PORTHOS! TO ME!_ " Aramis cried out, knowing that his brothers would instantly heed the call. When they came running in, accompanied by Paul, Eustis and Merle, he already had Charles cradled in his arms. "Don't even ask what happened because I don't have an answer!" he snapped. "Our son's hurt and I have to get him to the infirmary now!" Aramis placed a soft kiss on Charle's forehead, knowing the lad couldn't feel it but it made Aramis feel better. "Possible concussion at the most as far as I can tell without a proper look."

"Mon Dieu, Charles!" Porthos lifted a trembling hand to run it through the whelp's fine hair. "Mis?"

"Let's not waste anymore time talking!" Aramis pushed past all the men to run out of the stable with his precious cargo.

"I don't believe this happened under our noses... _again_!" Athos wanted someone's blood and if he discovered that it was truly Dupont behind his moppet's bruises, including what had just taken place inside this stable, then Treville would have a hell of a time keeping him from ripping Dupont limb from limb.


	11. Chapter 11

_Same day, mid morning - Royal Palace, King Louis' chambers_

"What the deuce do you mean Charles is in the Garrison infirmary, Treville?" his voice shrill, King Louis thought he had heard the captain wrong. Just in case he hadn't, snapping his fingers King Louis ordered a page to fetch the queen.

"There was an accident in the stable and it appeared one of the horse's hooves clipped Charles on the side of his head," Treville himself was deathly afraid what an injury of that nature would do to a child of only three. Running a hand down the side of his face, he swallowed hard. "And there's more."

"More? Tis bad enough the petit's injured but what else has befallen the garcon? I assume tis what you meant?" he waved his hand for Treville to continue.

"In speaking with the inseparables they informed me that last eve Aramis discovered bruises covering a major portion of Charle's arms," Treville became further upset divulging this piece of news. "Tis why they were at the Garrison today. They were questioning my other men to see if anyone had seen a stranger or even someone they knew hanging around the lad when they were here yesterday."

"And did they find their answer?" King Louis' voice grew hard as he dwelled on what may have happened to that happy child he and his queen had fallen in love with.

"As of now there is no concrete proof," Treville hated to say this as it could very well mean the involvement of one of his own Musketeers. "I'm not pointing fingers yet without all the facts but it would appear that Dupont had been in the child's vicinity twice. Once when the garcon was sitting at a bench and then seen later coming out of the stable right after Charles had left it."

"This Dupont is one of my men?" King Louis frowned, not liking the idea that a Musketeer could have done something to the petit garcon.

"Oui," Treville nodded. "But like I said tis all circumstantial so far, sire."

"I agree," King Louis tapped his foot impatiently. "What of today's incident?"

"Being investigated as we speak," Treville bit out feeling disgust well up inside him at the thought Dupont had a hand in this.

Sweeping into the room just then Queen Anne's worried gaze instantly focused on Captain Treville. "What's this I hear about Charles? The page who came to get me said the petit had been hurt."

So for the second time that morning Treville found himself repeating the same story to his queen.

"I want the garcon brought here to the palace where our own physician can look him over," her eyes beseeched Louis'.

"Treville," King glanced sharply at his captain, "make it happen."

"Your Majestys, Charles can not be moved as yet," Treville could tell that the young monarchs cared deeply for the toddler. "Aramis and Doctor Perrot do not believe the youngster should be moved until the severity of his injury has been evaluated thoroughly."

"Then we will visit him," Queen Anne was determined to be with the poppet who had stolen her heart and nothing was going to sway her.

"She's right," King Louis agreed grimly. "Treville, see to our escort."

This he did not see coming. As if the possible headache of proving Dupont guilty loomed on the horizon, now Treville had to see to the safety of Their Majestys while they visit with the petit Gascon. "Very well. I'll gather several of my men together." Bowing, Treville hastily departed.

++++

_Garrison infirmary_

After an examination of the area where Charles was struck, Doctor Perrot cleaned the wound thoroughly then bandaged it. Being surrounded by Musketeers was nothing new for him but the way the inseparables huddled around the tyke did not give Perrot much elbow room.

"Gentlemen, would you kindly step aside so I can get on with my work," he was just as good in arching a brow to make a point as Athos. Seeing that it did the trick he signaled Aramis to approach again. "Charles was lucky in that he did not get the full brunt of the hoof. I expect the fall off that stool he was using caused more of a problem than anything."

"He's so young though," Aramis ground his teeth together, "I fear more damage could have been caused than is visible."

"I understand your concern," Perrot collectively took in all the inseparable's worried features, "every one of you. For now let's take this as it comes," he stood up from where he had been seated on the edge of Charle's bed. "Keep an eye on him and let me know the minute he stirs."

At that moment, Merle ran inside out of breath. It took him a few seconds before he could tell everyone what he had discovered. "I've been poking my nose around and found out Dupont had just been heard today boasting to a few of the men about taking care of a petit thorn in his side."

"Zut! I'll right kill 'em!" Porthos growled, ready to rip Dupont's heart out. That is if the Musketeer even had one.

Not reacting to Merle's words, because something else caught his attention, Aramis swore. "Merde!" Looking down upon Charle's bottom, as the blanket had slipped down and the lad's nightshirt had risen upward, his heart sank even further.

"Parbleu!" Athos exclaimed. "What is it this time, Aramis?"

"Look," pointing to the garcon's rear-end it was plain for all to see the reddened marks on the tyke's butt cheeks. It explained to Aramis why yesterday his son winced when he had patted him lightly there.

"If I were to guess," Athos seethed inside, "Charles earned those bruises fighting off someone who was spanking him."

"I hope Dupont has his will made out," Aramis' eyes were deadly to look at.

"We have yet to establish the fact he caused harm to our son," Athos was trying to be the reasonable one of the group, though he felt far from it.

"Ya heard Merle here," Porthos wanted justice for their kid and he wanted it now.

"All we have so far is someone overhearing a conversation that doesn't name any names." The way Athos felt right now he could very well march over to wherever Dupont was and happily beat the man into a confession or challenge him to a duel... illegal or not.

"Er, gentlemen," Doctor Perrot interrupted. "It would appear Charles has royal visitors."

"Royal," Athos repeated stupidly, not really registering what that meant. Turning his head, his breath caught in his throat when he noted the young monarchs standing in the entranceway. "Mon Dieu! What are they doing here?"

"Treville must be 'avin' a bird or two over this," Porthos remarked with a near comical look toward Aramis amazed face.

Bowing, the inseparables moved aside so the king and queen could gaze upon their son.

"He looks so pale," Queen Anne sat on the edge of Charle's bed, running her fingers through the toddler's hair. "Doctor," she glanced up at Perrot, "will he be well?"

"I believe so, Your Majesty," Perrot hadn't realized that the king and queen were so close to the child. "The cut isn't a deep one," he smiled at her. "I'm sure you got a scare seeing all those bandages wrapped about Charle's head but head wounds do bleed a lot. So it looks worse than it is."

"We had wanted petit Charles to be taken to the palace where our own physician could examine him but my old fox informed me that the lad had to remain here," King Louis explained to the inseparables who appeared stunned at their presence.

"We are more than honored that you would want to do that for our son, Your Majesty," Athos dipped his head. "But our regiment's doctor is highly qualified and Aramis, as you know, is a top notch medic and has been helping him."

"Of course," King Louis grew even more concerned upon viewing the petit body underneath the pile of blankets. "I want the person found immediately who was involved in causing harm to our Charles!"

"As do we sire," was Aramis' clipped response. "For it appears that Charles also was spanked yesterday as well which explains away the bruises I found on his arms."

"Charles is just a petit garcon," Queen Anne's eyes watered. "Tis understandable if an older youngster does something wrong the parent has the right to select a just punishment," she dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, "but he is only three years of age."

"If it turns out that this Dupont is responsible I want him arrested immediately, Treville!" Clearly irritated with the captain, King Louis turned an icy glare his way. "You did not mention anything about a spanking."

"Sire," Aramis broke in, "we just discovered it for ourselves right now. Captain Treville had no prior knowledge of this."

"Understood," King Louis walked over to join his wife. "Charles hasn't woken up yet?"

"Non," Doctor Perrot shook his head. "His papas are going to keep an eye on him for me."

"Dupont might not make it ta the palace in one piece if'n I 'ave anythin' ta say about it," Porthos growled, despite the poke in his ribs from Athos.

Listening to Porthos' heartfelt words it would probably surprise his Musketeers to know that their king felt the same way. Lips twitching upward he turned to look at the darker-skinned man. "I can't say I blame you there, Porthos." With a slightly amused nod at Treville he added, "If the culprit comes before me the worse for wear I shall turn a blind eye to it."

"Just don't kill him," Queen Anne murmured softly. Her hands never once stopped brushing Charle's hair.

"I can't guarantee that wouldn't become a possibility if he puts up a fight," Athos' troubled blue eyes locked with the queen's own.

"If it cannot be avoided I understand," Queen Anne reluctantly left the toddler's side. "If this Musketeer Dupont is truly behind Charle's injury I want to see him stripped of his commission."

"Oui," King Louis agreed. "He will be publicly humiliated and," he lowered his voice, "afterwards if you three want to mete out a different type of punishment I shall be most vocal in cheering you on."

"That is if he survives the beatin' I want ta give 'em first," Porthos' fists clenched and unclenched by his side.

Knowing retribution for the toddler was uppermost in his Musketeer's minds, King Louis was prepared to let his soldiers vent out their anger in any form it would take. As it stood he too was greatly distressed that Charles had been treated thusly.

When Charles started to stir, moaning softly, everyone in the room became silent.

The inseparables practically pounced on their son, unintentionally nearly knocking over Perrot in the process. Seeing the toddler's eyes slowly open, they were at first relieved. But then Charle's turned over and began to gag.

Instantly Aramis grabbed the chamber pot by the bed so his son could throw up into it.

Handing Athos a towel, Perrot stood by to watch the Musketeer gently wipe the garcon's face.

"I feel bad," Charles groaned, leaning into his papa Thos' chest.

"Mon ange," Athos kissed the petit's cheek. "Are you feeling dizzy?"

Eyes closed again, Charles squinted one eye open at a time, "Uh huh."

"Mon coeur," Aramis dropped a kiss on top of his son's head, "it will pass after a short while."

"Eh, petit faquin," Porthos too kissed the whelp on the cheek, "I missed ya."

"Did I go somewhere, papa Porth?" Hearing chuckles all around, it was then Charles realized that the king and queen were with him. "Am I at the palace?"

"Non, Charles," King Louis stood before the child. "You were hurt and Aramis brought you to the Garrison infirmary."

"Do you remember what happened?" Queen Anne went to stand beside her husband.

"I think," Charle's scrunched up his face trying to remember, "I was in the stable." He glanced up into his papa Thos' eyes. "Wasn't I?"

"Mmmmm, oui," Athos hummed. "Then what else occurred?"

"Horse went crazy and I fell," Charles touched his head, wincing at the pain when his hand landed on a tender area. "Why does it hurt so?"

"The horse got ya with one of its hooves," Porthos explained. He could at least breathe easier now that the whelp appeared lucid.

"Gentlemen," Perrot interrupted, "I believe all these questions should be held off until Charles feels more up to it."

"Of course," King Louis took the queen by her arm. With a nod at Treville, that signaled they were ready to depart, they both kissed Charles goodbye.

"We'll look forward to seeing you at the palace when you're feeling better, Charles," Queen Anne waved goodbye to him.

After the monarchs left, Athos was the first one out the door without a word to anyone.

Aramis and Porthos were torn. Both thinking one of them should stay with their son but Doctor Perrot stepped in seeing their dilemna.

"Charles won't be alone as I will be here," Perrot stated. "I suggest you follow your brother before there is nothing left of Dupont to present to the king." He chuckled watching the two Musketeers beat a hasty path to the door. So much for him saying that the inseparables would be looking after their son. Ah bien, he looked down upon the garcon, Perrot grinned. "I'm glad I'm not Dupont."

"Who is Dupont?" Charles took a cup of water from the doctor's hands and sipped it slowly.

"They believe he is the one who harmed you, petit," Perrot patiently waited to see if the toddler would say anything further.

"Then my papas know about that Muskyteer spanking me?"

"Mmmmm, that and a bit more I'm afraid," Perrot was amused at what the lad called Treville's soldiers.

"He didn't do anything else," Charles admitted.

"That I will leave up to your papas to explain. For now all I want is for you to rest," Perrot tugged on a one of the tyke's feet. Walking to an open window he stared out into the courtyard where he could see the inseparables confronting one of the other Musketeers. "Perhaps I should say a prayer for you, Dupont," Perrot glanced at the toddler's bandaged head, frowning, "then again perhaps not."

++++

_Courtyard_

"You snivilin' batard!" Porthos yelled, landing a solid punch to Dupont's jaw.

"Stand up you miserable cur!" Aramis snarled, his pistol aimed at the downed Musketeer.

"I should run you through right now!" Athos threatened, waving his rapier quite close to Dupont's throat. One slice of his blade, in just the right place, and the man would bleed out.

"What is this all about?" Dupont shouted back, trying to gain his feet. He noted that quite a few of his brothers were watching the proceedings but none were coming to his aid.

"Nom de Dieu!" Athos swore violently. "You know very well this is all about what you did to Charles!" he pressed his blade into Dupont's chest. Noting the man pale, Athos knew the soldier's reaction spoke of guilt.

Realizing he should have kept his mouth shut when he had been boasting earlier, Dupont wasn't sure if the inseparables actually had any proof of substance toward his guilt, so he tried to bluff his way out. "I do not know of what you speak," he held out his hands in supplication, though he could see they weren't buying it.

"We have Musketeers willing to place you near Charles around the time of the two incidents and once our son is up to talking we will discover your part in all of this," Aramis wanted to shoot Dupont where he stood but remembered the queen wanted the soldier alive. He could always blame a faulty memory made him forget then again he didn't want her to become mad at him.

The more Porthos looked into that insincere face the more his temper flared. Surrounded by at least five Musketeer brothers trying to keep him from killing Dupont, he managed to shove his way through them. Then Porthos commenced pounding Dupont into the ground. By the time Athos, Aramis, Eustis, Dufort and Gemain combined hauled Porthos off the other man, Dupont was a bloody mess.

"Bien," Aramis shrugged, "King Louis did tell us he didn't care what state we brought Dupont in."

Smirking, Athos dragged Dupont off the ground and began leading him away.

Stumbling, dazed and numb all over, Dupont wondered where they were going. "Where are you taking me?"

"For now," Athos sneered, "the Bastille."

Not being able to help himself, Dupont blanched at the other Musketeer's words. "For how long?"

"Just until we talk to Charles," Athos pushed Dupont ahead of him but kept his blade shoved against the man's back. With Aramis and Porthos flanking them there really wasn't a chance of Dupont getting away. Still he figured a warning wouldn't go amiss.  "Don't think of trying to run because you won't get very far."

He could see that, as Dupont passed many a brother on the long walk to the Bastille. All of them were shaking their heads and turning their backs on him.

"Pauvre diable," Eustis whispered to Paul. "Dupont doesn't realize yet that not only has he incurred the wrath of the inseparables but that of Their Majestys."

"If he would do such a thing to a child he does not deserve to wear the uniform of a king's Musketeer," Paul snorted. "We're supposed to protect those weaker than us. Who weaker than our petit children?"

"Come," Eustis slapped his brother on the back, "let's volunteer to guard Dupont until he is to be presented to the king."

"I like how you think," Paul laughed as he and his comrade happily followed behind the inseparables.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See note at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, after the noon time hour - Garrison infirmary_

Charles was feeling slightly less nauseated and dizzy so Doctor Perrot let him sit up in bed. He was wondering where his papas had gone. "Are they coming back?"

"Oh be assured your papas won't let you linger with just me for company for very long," Perrot chuckled. "But look what I've brought you," he produced a plate filled with sliced fruit for Charles. "I had Serge send this over along with a glass of juice for you," he set the plate beside the garcon and observed the toddler pick at the food. "Now if at any time you don't think you can eat it do not worry about wasting the food," Perrot gave the lad a kind smile, knowing the child had had better days.

Picking up an apple slice Charles nibbled on it. "Serge knows I love apples," choosing another piece, he gazed up at the doctor. "That bad man didn't like me taking the last one."

Sitting on the edge of the petit's bed, with his arms folded, Perrot listened diligently. Perhaps he would find out what had taken place that could have led to all of Charle's misfortune. "He didn't?"

"Non," Charles took a sip of his juice. "He left really, really mad."

"Why do you call him a _bad man_?" Out of the corner of his eyes Perrot noted the inseparables had come back, standing at the entrance to the room listening in.

"Saw him hitting a horse with something," Charles kept on eating his fruit. "I kicked him and told him to stop." Looking away from the doctor, his eyes stared at the floor. When the doctor lifted his chin back up with a gentle hand, he blinked up at him.

"Then what happened?" Perrot knew that's probably when Dupont lost control and snapped. But he needed to hear Charles tell him that.

"Couldn't get away... he was too strong," Charles admitted, rubbing his bruised arms. "Then he spanked me and told me don't say anything."

Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, Perrot wished for a few minutes alone with Dupont himself. "He threatened you with another punishment if you didn't do as he said mmmmm?" Noting Charles slowly nod in the affirmative his lips tightened. Turning his head to the side he couldn’t help but see the furious expressions that crossed all the inseparable's faces and Perrot was delighted to know he wouldn't be facing their wrath. "Charles, your papas have returned." Seeing the pleasure that seemed to bring to the lad Perrot got up to leave them alone.

"Mon ange," Athos sat in the exact spot Perrot had just vacated, dipping the bed slightly from his weight, "tis good to see you have color back in your cheeks."

"I feel better," Charles knew that his papas had been upset and still were. "I didn’t do anything bad to that horse,” he wanted them to know that he would never mistreat a horse, or any animal for that matter.

“We know that, kid,” Porthos gruffly said, leaning down to ruffle his son’s hair.

“Was it sick?” While Charles had been brushing its mane the horse had seemed fine.

"Non," Aramis sat down on the opposite side of the bed while Porthos settled near their son's legs.

"Then why did it hurt me?" Charles finished his juice and let papa Thos wipe his mouth for him.

“It had nothing to do with you,” Athos tapped the lad on the tip of Charle’s nose. “That _bad man_ you keep speaking about is at fault and will be justly punished.”

"But first we're gonna need ya ta see Dupont and tell us if'n 'e was the one who got mad over that dumb apple," Porthos tugged on Charle's foot covered under the blankets.

"And spanked you," Athos growled low, trying not to scare his son.

"It was the same person who did both," Charles bit his lip, "but I don't know his name."

"Do not worry upon that," Athos remarked. "Just be honest with us."

"All right," Charles touched his head, "I don't like these." He was trying to undo the doctor's bandages but Aramis intercepted his hand.

"Non, mon garcon," Aramis grinned. "We want that to stay on you for a time."

Pouting, Charles sat back against his pillows all the while glaring at his papa Mis.

"Ah," Porthos chuckled, "you're in the kid's bad books now, Mis."

"Er, gentlemen," Perrot interrupted, "Charles has another visitor of great import." Stepping aside so everyone had a clearer view he had the presence of mind not to laugh out loud upon seeing the inseparables instantly jump to their feet, standing at attention for their surprise guest.

Waving his hand at the Musketeers, Richelieu strode over to where Charles laid. Arching a brow he glanced at the inseparables and acknowledged their presence with a stiff, short nod. "You seem all right to me," he pronounced gruffly, noting the bandages swathed around the tyke's head. Shooting the doctor a cold look he pointed to the garcon. "How long is Charles expected to be a guest here?"

"He held down the food and juice fine a short time ago," Perrot shrugged. "If the inseparables agree they could take him home now."

"Ah, but they have to make a detour to the Bastille first," Richelieu glanced at Athos. "Do you not?"

"Oui," Athos swiftly replied. "So Charles can identify the canaille."

"But we ain't gonna take the kid inside that place," Porthos didn't want to expose Charles to the ruffians and cut-purses that resided within those walls.

"I agree," Richelieu’s shrewd gaze encompassed the Musketeers. "Best to have them bring him out to you." His eyes resting briefly again on the toddler, he let them know nothing escaped his notice. "I heard from Their Majestys that they want his commission," Richelieu noted that Charles appeared to be fascinated with the cape he wore as the petit garcon's hand reached out to touch it several times.

"The Bastille is the least Dupont deserves," Aramis snapped. "Apologies, My Lord, for my anger."

Holding up his hand, Richelieu shook his head. "None needed. I for one would be just as upset." Turning around he snapped his fingers at one of his Red Guards. He waited as the soldier stepped outside and came back in with a petite bundle of marmalade colored fur in his arms. The guard handed the animal to him and Richelieu began stroking the kitten's back gently. Bending down he settled the tiny creature onto Charle's lap. Allowing himself a smile, he noted how the garcon's eyes grew wide upon seeing the kitten. "She is yours now." Registering the shock covering the inseparable’s faces, a sly grin crossed Richelieu’s normally impassive one. "I should take advantage while you men are speechless."

"Tis truly a lovely gesture, Your Eminence," Athos dipped his head. "Merci."

"Oui," Aramis was simply stunned at the cardinal's caring thought.

"It'll take the kid's mind off of what happened to 'im," Porthos added for good measure.

"Charlies," Athos softly called his son's name to gain his attention, "what do you say to Cardinal Richelieu?"

Stroking the silky softness, Charles buried his nose in the kitten's orange tinged fur then turned his face up toward the cardinal. "Merci."

"You are quite welcome, young one," Richelieu noted the Musketeers staring at him most curiously. "I love cats,” he muttered with a casual shrug of one shoulder. “I have many," he pointed to the kitten. "One just had a litter and so I figured Charles could use some cheering up."

"I was going to give him a pony later," Athos idly mentioned. "Charles loves horses."

"You may have to forego that pleasure for awhile as I heard what happened in the stable," Richelieu remarked. Seeing Athos gaze back at him a tad perplexed, he explained himself. "I'd be surprised if Charles didn't prove skittish around horses for a time."

"I didn't think of that," Athos felt saddened upon this but would reflect on it later.

"Now, Charles," Richelieu cleared his throat, "you have to give your kitten a proper name. So think hard upon it and I expect you to inform me later." Turning to his guards he snapped his fingers and watched them open the door for him. But before leaving the infirmary the garcon had a question for him.

"Could I have a cape like yours?" Charlies innocently asked while his kitten crawled all over the bed.

"A... _cape_?" Richelieu's eyebrows shot up high. "First you get your very own _throne_ and now you want a _cape_ like mine," he gave a great shout of laughter. "Let us wait until you add a few more years to your shoulders before that happens, child." With that said Richelieu whirled around, his cape billowing out behind him and departed.

"That was mighty kind of him," Porthos tugged on his mustache. "Didn't know 'e 'ad it in 'im."

"There's a surprise waiting around the corner everyday," Aramis mused, "so they say."

"The sooner Charles identifies Dupont," Athos pointed out severely, "the sooner we can take our son back home."

++++

_Outside the Bastille_

Under heavy guard Dupont was brought out for Charles to see. Backing up into the legs of his papa Porth, Charle's hold on his kitten was so tight the petite creature let out a loud mewl in protest.

"Is this the man who spanked you, petit?" Athos was kneeling beside his son, looking directly into Charle's frightened eyes. "Do not be afraid of him as he cannot do a thing to you now."

"Oui," Charles turned around to bury his face in his papa Thos' chest. The kitten, being sandwiched between the two bodies, mewed loudly once more.

Damning himself, Dupont spat, "That horse should have kicked you in the head harder!" he struggled against the guards holding him.

As Athos was caring for Charles, Porthos and Aramis charged Dupont out of pure fury at the other man's words toward their son but other Musketeer brothers, who were in the vicinity, held them back.

"Mes freres, we don't need you two to join Dupont in the Bastille as well," Eustis jested patting Aramis and Porthos on their backs, trying to calm them down, while Merle and Paul caught their breath from the struggle with the other two men. When Eustis, Merle and Paul were fairly certain their brothers had cooler heads, all three Musketeers released them.

Angrily waving the guards to take Dupont away, Athos once again held himself back from running the other Musketeer through with his blade. Taking care of his son was more important. Picking Charles up, along with his son's furry companion, Athos along with Porthos and Aramis walked back to the Garrison intending to pay their captain a visit.

"Papa Thos," Charles placed his head on his papa's shoulder, still clutching his kitten close, "what did that bad man mean?"

"Now that Dupont admitted it," Athos quietly seethed, "he deliberately caused that horse to strike out at you."

"Why?" Charle's kitten batted its head against his hand wanting to be petted again and so he obliged by stroking the kitten's tail.

How do you answer that simple question? Athos wondered. "Dupont is not known for having a pleasant personality."

"Man's got a nasty temper," Porthos spat, still wishing he could have smashed Dupont's face all over again. Porthos had relished the opportunity he had earlier when he had beaten the crap out of the man.

"Do not worry about Dupont anymore, mon coeur," Aramis smiled at his son. "Truth is he doesn't really like anyone."

"That's sad," Charles said simply, cuddling his kitten to his chest.

The inseparables had nothing further to add to that as they were more concerned with explaining to Captain Treville what had transpired at the Bastille.

++++

_Captain Treville's office_

"So by his own admission Dupont has truly determined his own fate," Treville shook his head in disgust at the actions of one of his own Musketeers.

"Your orders, Captain?" Athos was still holding Charles tightly in his arms. The latter was engaged in talking to his kitten and wasn't paying much attention to any of them.

"I will inform the king that Dupont was responsible for everything that happened to the petit and I'm sure Louis won't tarry overlong on his decision as both Their Majestys want Dupont stripped of his commission as soon as possible."

Having observed Charles with the petite kitten, Treville thought what a cute picture those two were together. "Did you manage to pick up an extra passenger, Athos?" he asked in amusement, his eyes dancing merrily.

"Oui," Athos grinned. "It seems I have courtesy of Cardinal Richelieu." He knew Treville would be shocked at His Eminence's gesture and wasn't in the least disappointed with his captain's reaction.

"Mon Dieu!" Treville laughed heartily. "It would seem petit Charles," he couldn't help himself and began petting the kitten's head, "you are a great influence on our cardinal."

"Ya should 'ave the king take Charles with 'im during one of 'is council meetings," Porthos suggested. "Kid would probably 'ave everyone wrapped around 'is finger in no time."

Pushing his chapeau back, Aramis chuckled. "Oui, do so, sir. You never know what King Louis could wheedle out of the other members when he has a _secret weapon_ at his disposal."

"Do not put those thoughts in my head, gents," Treville already knew the king was thinking of bringing the toddler with him to a meeting just to relieve his boredom. He shuddered at the thought.

Everyone couldn't help but note the huge yawn that escaped from Charles just then, as the garcon sleepily laid his head on Athos' shoulder.

"He's way overdue for a nap," Aramis relieved his son of the kitten before it slipped out of Charle's lax hands. Placing the squirming creature onto his shoulder, he smiled upon hearing the tiny thing begin to purr softly in his ear. "She likes me."

"Kitten's a _female_ ," Porthos grunted. "What cha' expect." To which his comment received much laughter from everyone except the sleeping Charles.

"Go on, the lot of you," Treville ordered. "Get that child to bed. I expect Louis will act on Dupont's punishment on the morrow."

"You will notify us what time to be here for it?" Athos placed a gentle kiss on top of Charle's head.

"Oui," Treville shot a look at the youngster. "And as you depend on Constance to watch the garcon in your absence she will be attending the queen on the morrow as well." Still gazing fondly at the toddler he added, "I suggest you have Constance look after Charles anyway as I'm sure Her Majesty would be delighted with the poppet's company."

"Tis a dishonorable end for a Musketeer's career," Athos sighed sadly. "Our petit garcon should not have to witness it."

"We'll speak with Constance before we depart for home," Aramis said.

"Fine," Treville acknowledged, "and I will send word after my audience with Louis and see all of you back here for Dupont's disgrace." After everyone left, Treville grabbed his chapeau and took off for the palace. He wanted this terrible business over and done with.

++++

_Royal Palace - King Louis' chambers_

"It was this Dupont fellow that dared to harm our Charles then?" King Louis was angry and saddened all at the same time over one of his own Musketeers doing such a despicable thing to a child of only three. The spanking he gave the petit was bad enough, but the garcon could have been severely injured from the horse. That was most unforgivable in his eyes.

"On the morrow you will bring Dupont before me," King Louis ordered firmly. "I will take away his commission in front of the entire regiment outside of the palace."

"Oui, sire. I surmised as much and it shall be as you order." Not sure if his audience with His Majesty was quite at an end, Treville waited a moment for he noted an amused twinkle in Louis' eyes.

"I hear Armand gifted Charles with a kitten," King Louis chuckled over that as did his wife, when they had found out about it.

"A most surprising occurrence," Treville remarked dryly making the king laugh all the harder.

"Make sure the petit brings it with him," King Louis grinned. "We have to give the kitten a proper name do we not?" then he frowned. "That is unless Charles has already done so."

"Non," Treville shook his head, "not that I'm aware of, sire."

"Good, good," King Louis waved the captain off. "Then see to everything, Treville."

Bowing, Treville left the king's side to do his monarch's bidding.

++++

Note:

I know I was thinking of Athos giving Charles a pony but was also debating about a kitten. So Elenduen was thinking about me adding a kitten also as she told me an interesting fact about the real life Cardinal Richelieu. Apparently he loved cats and had 14 of them. Just a little trivia here for everyone.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See note below.
> 
> ++++

  
_Next day, shortly before noon – Royal Palace, King Louis’ chambers_

Dressed to the nines, in the royal blue colors of his Musketeer regiment, King Louis adjusted his coat trimmed in gold lace as he studied his reflection in the mirror. Twirling around his glance slid to his old fox. “Bien, do I pass inspection?”

“From your most humble servant as myself,” Treville bowed gracefully, “you shall outshine everyone, sire.”

“Just so,” King Louis fussed with his coat again before sweeping out of his chambers with Treville faithfully following in his wake. “Come, let us check on my queen and petit Charles before we must go attend to this sad business.”

_Royal Gardens_

Upon reaching the gardens, childish giggles assailed the ears of the king and his captain. What both men observed lightened their spirits immeasurably, nearly making them forget about what must occur this day. There before them was the tyke happily chasing after his kitten while both Constance and Queen Anne chased after them both.

“What fun!” King Louis laughed and clapped his hands together. ‘I shall join them after this dreadful affair with Dupont is over and done with.”

Knowing there was no need to voice his thoughts to what the young monarch had said, Treville enjoyed the merry scene before him. Nevertheless he was pleased to note Charles appeared to have overcome the trauma that had befallen him, thanks in most part to that petite fluff ball of orange-colored fur currently evading all of their collective efforts to capture her.

“Charles!” King Louis called out, waving the garcon over to his side. When the child had finally snagged his kitten, Charles cradled it in his arms. Then the toddler skipped over to where he stood. Taking the animal from the toddler, King Louis began to pet the kitten’s petite head smiling when she began to purr softly in pleasure while he gently stroked her soft fur. “She likes that,” King Louis grinned down at the tyke, with his old fox looking on in amusement. “A fine looking animal, I must say.” Handing the tiny creature back to its new owner, King Louis tapped his chin thinking hard upon their current problem. “Now as to a name,” he observed the kitten licking the side of the youngster’s face making Charles giggle with joy. “You must pick something worthy of her.”

Watching Charles collect himself to give it some serious consideration, Treville placed a finger under the youngster's chin. “I can see tis a tough decision for you to make.”

“What about my real papa’s name?” Charle’s spoke quietly into the fur of his kitten.

Exchanging a thoughtful look with His Majesty, Treville rubbed at his beard. “Your kitten’s female but you could call her _Alexandrie_ ,” he suggested noting the garcon’s eyes light up at the idea. In this way the tot would never forget his real pere, holding the memory of Alexandre close.

“I can call her _Alex_!” Charlies cried out immediately running over to tell Constance and the queen he had a name for his pet.

“Brilliant, you old fox!” King Louis clapped his captain on the back. “Charle’s pere would be honored I believe.”

“I gave the child the feminine version of his pere's name,” Treville huffed. “So what does Charles do?” he rolled his eyes. “Calls her _Alex_.”

“Tis suitable either way,” King Louis smiled at the peeved look on Treville’s weather roughened face. “Now,” he took in a deep breath, “let us attend to this Dupont fellow.”

++++

_Out front on the grounds of the Royal Palace_

The entire regiment turned out, except for any units that were away on missions. They stood around talking to one another, occupying their time until the king’s arrival. When it finally came they instantly stood at attention with the inseparables located in the front of the crowd, dead center. Which was only proper considering this involved the abuse of their son at Dupont’s hands.

“Men, this is a dark day in Musketeer history!” King Louis announced in a clear, loud voice for all his soldiers to hear. “It saddens me for having to do this but I cannot condone Dupont’s actions,” waving his hand at a few selected soldiers four of his Musketeers escorted Dupont before him.

“You’ve bitterly disappointed me, Dupont,” King Louis stepped closer to the silent offender, “along with your Musketeer brothers.” Pointing over to where the inseparables stood still as statues he added, “Especially my inseparables whose son you harmed with your foul intentions.” Shaking his head on the duty he was about to perform, King Louis’ lips tightened. “You are a disgrace to the uniform of a Musketeer!”

Clearing his throat, King Louis grew even more vocal. “I formed this regiment to not only protect myself and the queen,” he stared hard into Dupont’s unrepentant features, “but to protect the people of France as well.” King Louis began to walk in a circle around the, soon to be ex-soldier’s, stiff figure. “You chose to hurt one of them and _one_ , whom I might add, _COULD NOT DEFEND HIMSELF!_ ” he angrily bellowed out the last part startling the soldiers guarding Dupont.

“Everyone present knows what brought you to be here today so tis needless to re-hash the unfortunate events leading up to this moment.” Nodding to Treville, King Louis observed his old fox take hold of Dupont’s shoulders from behind so the man couldn’t move away. “I hereby strip you of your commission!” King Louis reached out to unbuckle Dupont’s pauldron, pulling it down and off the man’s right arm. “You are no longer a member of my Musketeers!” He was surprised that the disgraced soldier hadn’t uttered a word in his defense. “Have you nothing to say for yourself?”

“No matter what I say in my defense, Your Majesty,” Dupont sneered, utter lack of respect in his tone for the monarch, “you will never forgive me my lapse of poor judgment!”

“I do not consider it a _lapse_ when you decided to spank the petit who was only trying to _save_ one of the regiment’s horses from a beating at your hands but,” King Louis got into Dupont’s face, “you compounded your error by causing one of the mounts to harm Charles, which was beyond the pale in my estimation!” Disgusted, King Louis stepped away from Dupont. Motioning for Treville he ordered, "Get him out of my sight!"

Turning Dupont to face his former comrades Treville shoved the disgraced man in the back to get him moving.

Slowly walking past the Musketeers every soldier present turned their backs on him. It was a lonely journey from the palace for him to travel when Dupont headed back to the Garrison to collect his personal belongings.

"Captain," King Louis gave all the appearance of having swallowed a lemon, as he addressed the officer, "you have my permission to dismiss the men."

"Gentlemen!" Treville called out to the mass of soldiers gathered, "Dismissed!" He heard the men speaking amongst themselves while they dispersed in all directions. No doubt wondering what Dupont was going to do now that he had lost his commission, and his honor, Treville thought darkly.

"Captain," King Louis crooked a finger at Treville, "why are _they_ still standing there?" he pointed to the inseparables who hadn't budged from their spot yet.

"I'm sorry, sire, I don't know what you're asking of me," Treville's puzzled face noted the young monarch's obvious eyeroll which was deliberately aimed his way.

"I distinctly remembered telling them that I would root them on if they wanted to dole out further punishment on Dupont after I had carried through kicking him out of my regiment," King Louis huffed, clearly annoyed that he had to elaborate that fact.

Hiding a smile, Treville put on a most serious expression upon listening to the young king. "I shall endeavor to see if they have forgotten, Your Majesty."

"See that you do," smirking, King Louis turned around and headed back inside the palace. Eager to re-join his queen and Charles in the gardens again, his pace quickened.

"Gents," Treville's noted the solemn faces his three finest soldiers wore, "the king was under the impression that you were not going to let Dupont leave without a _parting gift_ to remember us by."

At first they were at a loss to what their captain referred. When Treville winked at them, shooing them away, it dawned on the inseparables what the officer had meant for them to do. It was knowing that they had His Majesty’s blessing to carry on in this manner that made them eager to do King Louis' bidding.

"Mon Dieu!" Porthos exclaimed. "I thought the king was jesting.

"I know King Louis told us that he wouldn't care if we roughed Dupont up beforehand," Aramis grinned, "which we did."

Breaking in, Athos tilted his head to the side. "I would suggest we not tarry any longer and move on with all due haste to follow Dupont out of the Garrison so we can deliver our _gift_ in person.”

"What of Charles?" Aramis didn't want their son to think his papas had forgotten him.

"Occupied with his kitten, Constance and Queen Anne," Athos drawled, "in that order."

"No doubt with our His Majesty by now too," Aramis added with a smile, thinking upon everyone chasing the kitten around.

Cracking his knuckles, Porthos winked. "Then why are we still standin' 'ere yackin'?"

++++

_Outside of the Garrison_

They waited until he was clear of the Garrison gates. When Dupont was a safe distance away from calling for help, each of the inseparables came at him from different angles effectively cutting off the ex-Musketeer's avenues of escape. Coming from the left, behind a flower vendor's stall was Porthos. From the right sauntered Aramis who was hidden behind a pile of stacked barrels. Then Athos’ determined steps approached Dupont head on.

"You can't leave the city without our goin' away present," Porthos cracked his knuckles again, relishing the chance to pound into Dupont once more. He enjoyed it the last time and knew he'd find great satisfaction all the more now.

His bag of belongings hitting the ground with a thud, Dupont opened his arms wide. "I am unarmed."

“Matters not,” Aramis scoffed, his dark eyes narrowed on Dupont’s arrogant stance.

"We'll let our fists do the talkin' for us," Porthos growled, drawing closer to him, a feral look on his face.

"You hurt our son!" Athos hissed. "A defenceless petit garcon," he flexed his hands, balling them into fists.

"If you thought that beating you received before they threw you into the Bastille was enough," Aramis spat in anger, grabbing Dupont by the throat, "you must have forgotten our reputation of seeing things through to the end!"

"Aramis," Athos tapped his brother on the shoulder, "if you cut off his air supply Dupont won't be able to fight us," he calmly drawled.

Reluctantly releasing the weasel, Aramis stepped back with a snarl.

Then finding himself spun around Dupont didn't have a chance to dodge the heavy fist that slammed into his face, breaking his nose.

Shaking his hand out, Porthos laughed. "Now that felt damn good!"

Another hand snaked out turning Dupont around again to encounter Aramis punching him in the stomach until he couldn't stand upright. When Dupont finally managed to straighten up it was to face a punishing backhand from Athos that split his lip. Falling to the ground there was no chance for him to catch his breath when Athos picked him back up and began shaking Dupont like a rag doll.

" _DO NOT EVER! EVER!..._ " Athos threatened Dupont with his main gauche, " _SHOW YOUR FACE IN PARIS AGAIN!_ " he shouted throwing the former soldier away in disgust to land in a heap in the dirt. Then and only then did Athos and his brothers turn their back on Dupont to return to the palace.

++++

_Royal Gardens_

Squealing in delight at the sight of his papas, Charles ran toward them only to be caught up in his papa Porths' powerful arms. His high-pitched laughter could be heard by all as he was tossed up into the air and caught again on the way down.

"Mon frere," Athos snapped, "it scares me when you do that with our pup."

"Ya ain't one for fun are ya?" Porthos grunted but placed his son back down on the ground to satisfy grumpy Athos.

"Are you having a good time, mon coeur?" Aramis carded his fingers gently through the poppet's long, dark hair.

"Oui," Charles couldn't wait to tell let them all know his kitten now had a name. "My kitten's _Alexandrie_ ," he clapped his hands. "But I'm calling her - _Alex._ " Giggling he trotted off to where the royal couple and Constance were sitting on a huge blanket, spread out on the lawn, playing with his marmalade furry pet.

"Ah," Athos exchanged knowing looks with his brothers. "Whose choice of name was that I wonder?"

"It was your son's idea," Treville told them as he welcomed his men back. "But I suggested the feminine version of Alexandre's name would be the wiser choice."

"And of course," Athos chuckled, "Charles dubbed the furball with a _male_ nickname."

"Makes perfect sense to me," Aramis laughed, along with Porthos and the captain.

"We'll have to inform our son that he gave his pet a name for Alexandrie to live up to," Athos said, enjoying the sight of the happy child. So different from the one that was in the infirmary just a short time ago.

"Hard ta believe that fluff ball's gonna be the _defender of mankind_ ," Porthos smiled upon seeing Charles so carefree. When Alex decided to crawl on top of the petit's head no one could keep a straight face. Then Porthos watched the frisky kitten jump off his son and land neatly beside the young monarch.

"Mmmmm," Aramis hummed, "I wonder who is the bigger child," he jerked his head toward where King Louis was laying down letting Alexandrie crawl all over his chest.

"The kid may 'ave a hard time gettin' Alex back from His Majesty," Porthos snorted.

Folding his arms Aramis studied the charming picture the group presented. It was especially a delight to see Alexandrie jump onto Queen Anne's shoulder and then get her paws caught in the queen's quaffed hair. Covering his mouth so they wouldn't hear his amusement he observed Constance gently remove the kitten but, alas, nothing could save the Her Majesty's hairdo.

"There goes Paulette's hard work on this," Queen Anne laughed patting her tangled mess and when her husband joined in she laughed all the harder.

"Tis a new look for you, ma chere," Louis kissed her cheek. Hungry he stood up and headed for the buffet table that had been set up. "Come, everyone," he picked up Charles and carried him over to where the food was. "I'm quite famished," he gazed into the petit's face, "aren't you?" Getting a happy nod in turn, King Louis placed a light kiss on the moppet's head.

"Alex is hungry too," Charles said hearing his kitten meow and sniff at the food he could smell.

"Of course," King Louis agreed. "You there," he called out to one of his staff, "get a saucer of milk and whatever else a kitten may like to eat."

Off to the side, Captain Treville and the inseparables were quietly chuckling.

"Tis not only Charles that has worked their charm on our king," Athos mused to the snickers of his brothers.

"Ya gotta admit," Porthos threw an arm around each of his friends, "our petit garcon and Alex make an unbeatable combination."

++++

_Note:_

_Alexandrie_ means defender of mankind


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See note below.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, early evening at the home of the inseparables_

"'Ow's the petit?" Porthos sat down and stretched out his long legs. It had been a trying day, one way or the other.

"Charle's fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow." Aramis smiled thinking upon how innocent and sweet their son had appeared.

"Tis been an eventful time for him," Athos filled three glasses up from the bottle of Anjou Treville had gifted them with. "Alex is sleeping just as peacefully curled up beside our garcon."

Raising his glass in the air, Porthos smirked. "'Ere's ta 'avin' eyes in the back of our 'eads from now on."

"Oui," Athos' blue eyes twinkled. "If we thought it took all three of us to watch out for Charles before," he sat down beside Porthos and he too stretched out his limbs, "now that Alex is added into the mix..."

"All bets are off," Aramis chuckled while finishing his older brother's thoughts. He perched on the edge of the table where his comrades comfortably sat. "Remember when we lived such a hum drum existence?"

Squinting his eyes at Aramis, Porthos grumbled his disagreement. "Ya been right there with us... _hum drum my ass!_ "

"Porthos is correct," Athos arched a brow. "Our lives are far from boring."

Not feeling up for a debate on the matter, Aramis slid off the table. Removing his doublet he threw it over another chair where his weapon's belt hung. Unbuttoning his white shirt, until it was opened down to the waist, he then gathered his things together. "Think I'll have an early night. Hearing Porthos' snort, Aramis turned his head to look at his friend curiously. "Something you care to add to that most ungentlemanly sound?"

"You've 'ad an early night before," Porthos shrugged. "Ya wantin' early nights agin' are down right worrisome."

"I thought we touched upon this subject before in setting a good example for Charles," Aramis explained again.

"Kid's asleep," Porthos' brow rose. "'E won't know."

With a Cheshire smile upon his lips, Aramis simply shrugged and headed for his room.

"To tell you the truth," Athos stood up, "Aramis has the right idea."

Frowning, Porthos sighed his discontent. "Thought at least we could play a hand or two of cards before hittin' the sack." When Athos placed a hand on his shoulder, Porthos glanced up at him.

"Sleep is going to be and has been a hard commodity of late to come by now that we've acquired a son," Athos patted the other man's arm. "Our petit has been getting up earlier and earlier lately," he tilted his head to the side, "or haven't you noticed that?"

"We've been doing good so far," Porthos scraped his chair back, getting to his feet. "Takin' turns and all."

"I think that our poppet is expecting all of us to be up any hour he is." Athos went to check that the door was locked and windows shut tight.

Porthos leaned against the wall, near his own room, with arms folded. "Did the kid say somethin?"

"The other morning," Athos picked up his own doublet and weapon's belt he had discarded on top of another table. "Charles asked me where his papa Porth and Mis were."

"What cha' tell 'im?"

"The truth," Athos' lips curled upward. "That both of you were the sleepyheads of the family."

"Nothin' wrong with that," Porthos started to open the door to his room but paused upon hearing Athos tell him what else Charles had said.

"That was when our son then informed me that his real pere got up early in the morning to tend to their livestock and begin work on the farm," Athos gave his friend a long look. "Charles thought that we did the same."

"We do when on a mission," Porthos grunted.

"Ah, but see, his papa did it everyday like clockwork," Athos brushed past Porthos on his way to his own room.

"I'll make sure not ta sleep in but it's gonna be 'ard," Porthos rapped a couple of times on Aramis' door. Opening it up a crack he whispered, "Best not ta try 'n get your beauty sleep from now on, Mis," then he shut the door. Hearing it opening up again Porthos turned to see Aramis standing there, in his nightshirt and hair all mussed up, staring back at him as if he were crazy.

"I can sleep in if I want too," Aramis hissed, keeping his voice low as possible so as not to wake Charles.

"Kid expects us ta be up with the birds like Alexandre used ta do," Porthos' dark eyes softened thinking about how their petit garcon still missed his pere.

Running a hand through his unruly curls, Aramis moaned softly. "Who needs sleep anyway?" he then went back inside his room, quietly closing the door behind him.

++++

_Next day, early morning_

Everyone was up at the same time for a change, if not all bright-eyed and bushy tailed.

Having eaten his hot porridge and drinking all of his milk, Charles made sure Alex had a saucer filled with milk as well attending to that duty himself.

"We're going to have to go to market soon to buy food for Alex," Athos glanced at both his brothers, a question in his gaze. "She has to have more than milk to sustain her."

"Let 'er catch some field mice," Porthos offered.

"Alex doesn't like mice," Charles piped up while watching Alex lap up her milk.

"And you would know this... how?" Aramis queried.

"I just do," Charle's chin stuck out, along with giving his papas a firm nod of his head.

Aramis and Porthos looked over at Athos who tried his best not to appear amused by the tyke.

"Guess we're goin' ta market, Mis," Porthos shook his head, thinking about how his life has now changed all because of their petit.

The marmalade ball of fluff chose that moment to jump onto Porthos' lap. She rubbed her head against his chest and began to purr softly.

Watching his papa Porth gently rubbing behind Alex's ear, Charles was happy inside. But one thing still bothered him. He had forgotten to ask his papas about it last eve.

Knowing his son was troubled over something, Athos lifted the pup's chin up with a finger. "Speak what's on your mind."

"What happened to that _bad man_?" Charle's began to chew on his lip, becoming anxious all over again.

"Oh, mon coeur," Aramis went to his knees beside the toddler, "Dupont has left," he brushed Charle's bangs away from his face. "He won't be coming back."

"Truly?" Hope shined brightly on Charle's features. That man had scared him badly and he was happy to know he was now gone.

"It's the truth, whelp," Porthos grinned, followed by a quick wink.

" _YAY!_ " Charles stunned all his papas by jumping up and down and then running outside to play.

Alex immediately followed the child, leaping off Porthos to race out the still opened door.

"Guess that's all it took ta make our garcon 'appy," Porthos crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, wearing an all too satisfied expression.

"A state of affairs that I look forward to seeing stays that way," Athos picked up all the plates and went to the sink.

"Let's make the most of today with our son," Aramis glanced out the window observing Alex and Charles at play, "for on the morrow tis back to work for us lot."

Joining Aramis, Athos smiled upon seeing Alex chasing after a small ball that Charles kept throwing at her, trying to bat at it with tiny paws. "I'll heed Cardinal Richelieu's words of advice about Charles possibly becoming shy of horses for a time," Athos remarked. He then stifled a laugh upon noting Alex climbing all over their garcon, the ball all but forgotten. "But I still plan on getting him that poney."

"As much as the kid loves horses," Porthos slapped both men on the back as he too approached the window, "Charles will be back ta wantin' ta groom their manes and tails in no time," he chuckled. "Kids bounce back mighty fast ya know."

"Tis to be hoped," Athos murmured.

++++

_Near lunch time_

Having played with Charles nearly all morning Athos was worn out, leaving it up to his other brothers to keep the lad entertained along with Alex of course. He was surprised at how much of a workout he had just from chasing the petit faquin all over the yard.

If Athos hadn't known better, he would have sworn he'd just gotten through teaching recruits the fine rudiments of sword play all morning long. Getting himself a glass of wine, Athos never got to partake of its sweetness when Porthos called for him to come outside. Staring at his drink with longing, Athos strode through the door again.

Ten minutes later Charles came back inside the house to get something else for Alex to play with. Passing by the kitchen table, he spotted a glass filled with a red liquid. Thinking it was simply juice he got up on a chair to reach for it, then drank it all down.

++++

"Where did Charles get off too?" Aramis held petit Alex in one hand, while stroking a finger down her back.

Having been out in the yard Athos noted part of their porch railing had worked its way loose. So with help from Porthos they began to repair it. "He went inside to get Alex a toy." But since Aramis brought it up, Athos wondered what was keeping Charles.

"Aramis," Athos called out, "go check on him."

Clutching the kitten to his chest, Aramis went in search of their son. He had barely stepped one foot into the house when he found Charles in tears. Placing Alex on the floor Aramis knelt down beside where the youngster sat clutching his stomach. There was a red substance dribbling down the lad's chin onto his clothes as well. It curiously matched what the petit had thrown up on the floor.

"What has happened, mon coeur?" Gathering the lad to him, Aramis got a good whiff of Charle's breath. "Mon Dieu!" he realized then what had upset the petit's poor stomach. Noting the empty wine glass sitting upon the table, Aramis closed his eyes tightly in disbelief that this could have happened. Running his hand up and down the toddler's back, Aramis placed a kiss on top of Charle's head. Lifting the garcon up he placed his son on the table.

"We'll have to hide the wine from now on I see," Aramis muttered to himself while cleaning the child's face with a wet cloth. "Let's get you changed into some clean clothes again and then I'll get you something to settle your tummy."

"Ginger root?" Charles hiccuped, knuckling his eyes.

Surprised that the lad knew that, Aramis nodded pleased with the garcon's knowledge. "You've had it before?"

"Papa used to give it to me to chew on when I ate something that upset me," Charles swiped at his eyes. "I thought it was juice, papa Mis," he whined only stopping when Alex hopped up on the table where he sat. About to pick up his pet Charle's hand froze when Alex backed away from him, hissing and arching her back. Sniffling, his stomach aching and head feeling strange from the after effects of the wine, Charles was hurt that Alex seemed to be mad at him. "Alex?"

"Shoosh, mon coeur," Aramis soothed. "She smells the wine on your clothes," frowning down at the kitten, Aramis shook his finger at her. "Tis a fine vintage, Alex," he huffed, "but not for three year olds nor apparently petit chats.

"Parbleu!" Athos exclaimed upon entering the house and noting Charles and the floor both in a state of distress. "What the hell happened this time?"

"Oooooh," Charles eye's widened, "bad word, papa Thos."

"I think I'm allowed one every now and then," Athos crossed the floor in several strides, looking at the toddler's woebegone petit face the entire time. Sniffing, Athos stared into Charle's watery eyes in a state of shock. "Wine?"

"He thought it was juice," Aramis' lips pursed as he stared up at the ceiling, missing Athos' chagrined expression when his brother took note of the empty wine glass that Athos had left behind.

"What's eatin' the kid?" Porthos stood in the center of the room taking in the comical tableaur in front of him. "Somethin' interestin' up there, Mis?" Then he really looked at Athos. "Why's your face all red and why's Charles look like he puked up 'is guts?"

"Papas," Charles pitifully moaned, clutching his still upset stomach while Alex mewed along with him in sympathy now that she got used to his smell, "my head feels funny."

The closer Porthos got to the table, the familiar smell of alcohol assailed his nostrils. Incredulous, he stared hard at both of his brothers. When Athos and Aramis shook their heads at him, Porthos held back from cutting loose.

Observing Aramis pick their son up to take Charles into the garcon's room, Porthos turned to Athos for answers. "Since when is it okay ta give petits that young wine?"

Collapsing down into the nearest chair Athos motioned for his larger friend to sit as well. "I unthinkingly left a full glass of wine on the table," he rubbed at his face with both hands. "Aramis told me Charles drank it thinking it was juice."

"Oy!" Porthos' head hung down. "Poor pup."

"Tis a lesson in this for all of us," Athos was beating himself up over this. Of all things to happen and after everything their son had been through. If Athos could have reached it, he would have given himself a good, swift kick in the ass.

"I'll lock up any liquor we have in the cabinet from now on," Porthos said.

"What we have to remember is not to leave our unfinished drinks unattended where petit hands can take them," Athos glanced over his shoulder at Charle's bedroom door. "Our son now has a headache, he is no doubt dizzy and all of this on top of an upset stomach."

"In other words," Porthos too stared at the whelp's door, "kid's got a taste of what a hangover feels like."

"That's hardly in good taste," Athos glowered at him.

"Wasn't meant ta be funny," Porthos shrugged. "We'll 'ave ta keep better tabs on whatever Charles is doin'."

"I agree," Aramis stepped back out from the garcon's room. "Raising a child is serious business as we are all discovering."

"Perhaps I'll see about purchasing that poney sooner rather than later," Athos announced. "It may cheer our son up after this latest mishap."

"Mis and I can watch over the whelp, Athos," Porthos offered. "No worries. So why don't cha' go look inta gettin' that poney now?"

"I believe I will," Athos got back up and went to retreive his chapeau and weapon's belt. "Treville told me of a Monsieur Parris who trains and sells horses of good quality. I may find what I'm looking for there."

"Where's 'is place at?" Porthos asked, having never heard of the man before.

"About four miles out of the city," Athos opened the door, he needed to get Roger saddled and ready for the trip. "Considering where we now live his place isn't all that far from us."

"Fortunate," Aramis joined his brother at the door. "The tyke will definitely benefit from seeing a poney tied up waiting for him," he mused, "even if Charles is hesitant at first."

"Bonne chance," Porthos called out when Athos departed.

++++

_Note:_

_Poney_ is french for, what else? _Pony_.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This ended up being a shorter chapter than I wanted to do but I wanted to post something. We were having unusually warm temps for Sept./Oct. and it's not cooling down and of course I feel like I'm getting a cold and not feeling to great. But I've been working on this off and on and hope you enjoy Charles introduction to his poney.  
> See notes below.
> 
> ++++

Same day, after one p.m. – approximately three miles from the inseparable’s home

_Monsieur Parris stables_

“Monsieur Athos,” Parris shook hands with the Musketeer, “thank your captain for recommending my services.”

Dipping his head, returning the gesture with a firm grip of his own, Athos smiled. “Tis a pleasure.” Looking about Parris’ stables, Athos was well pleased with what he saw.

“I feel as if I know you already, Monsieur,” Parris grinned. “The stories Jean-Armand regaled me with of you and your brothers were quite entertaining,” his lips twitched and noted Athos’ one eyebrow shoot up.

Clearing his throat, Athos’ own lips curled upward. “Don’t believe everything you hear, Monsieur.”

“Ah, but that would be a shame,” Parris laughed leading the way to his stables. “Just for the record, tis Gregoire. I feel you and I will become great friends just as Jean-Armand has,” he stopped in front of one of the stables.

“If it pleases you,” Athos acknowledged thinking that he liked this horse breeder already.

Leading Athos inside the stable, Gregoire turned and observed the Musketeer seriously. “Now what are you interested in looking at? For I have several stables all with fine horses that would suit any of your needs, Athos.” Noting a frown crossing the other man's face, Gregoire wondered at it.

“Myself, Aramis and Porthos recently acquired a son,” he smiled thinking upon Charle’s reaction when Athos returned with a poney in tow. “Our petit garcon is only three years of age.”

“Ah,” Gregoire urged Athos closer to the stalls. “Where does the lad hail from?”

“Lupiac in Gascony," Athos was curious to know why Gregoire asked that of him.

“Then I have the perfect one for…,” Gregoire tilted his head to the side, studying Athos intently, “ummmm, what is your child’s name?”

“Forgive me,” Athos apologized, “tis Charles.”

“I have a most suitable poney in mind for young Charles,” Gregoire guided Athos over to the fourth stall to the right. “This is one of my Cheval de Merens,” he ran his hand lightly over the poney’s back. “Ironic that Charles is from Gascony because this type of horse is native to the Pyrenees and Ariegeois mountains.”

“I believe that this is the perfect horse for my son,” Athos went over to give the poney a closer inspection. It was black as the ace of spades with only a few white markings on its face. The horse had a flat forehead with wide short ears, along with a beard of hair growing below the cheeks which set it apart from the other horses. “Oui, I think Charles will be well pleased.”

Clapping his hands in delight, Gregoire was happy he was able to accommodate Athos with his choice. They discussed price and he gave Athos a brief history of the poney.

After about an hour Athos was ready to depart, with a promise to the horse breeder of more business to come his way.

++++

_Somewhere close to three p.m. – the inseparable’s residence_

Arriving back home, Athos hid the gift inside their barn that had come with the house. He couldn’t wait to present the poney to Charles, hoping it would be a positive experience. Knowing the toddler may be afraid, after what had happened to him because of Dupont, Athos wanted to approach this carefully.

He set about getting some oats for the poney first and realized, that with another horse to feed, Athos and his brothers would have to go purchase more food for their mounts. Grass and hay were always in abundance, but Athos would see to it that they also had plenty of grains and apples on hand. He may have to purchase some of that special blend Treville fed his own horse with consisting of barley, corn and oats. Well Athos could do all that perhaps on the morrow when Porthos and Aramis go to market to see about acquiring food for Alex.

++++

_Inside the house_

When Athos swept into the main room it was to see Charles sitting on Porthos’ lap listening to one of his tall tales. By the sounds of giggling their son was being highly entertained. “Petit, are you feeling better?”

“Oui, papa Thos.” Charles literally flew off papa Porth', running to be embraced by his other papa. When Charles was lifted into the air, a brush of warm lips kissed his forehead.

Placing his son back down Athos took the petit imp’s much smaller hand in his own. “Guess what?”

“What?” Charles echoed, thinking this was going to be a game.

“I brought you something,” Athos smiled seeing the lad’s eyes light up with curiosity as Charle’s gazed back at him. “Non, tis not on me.”

“Where is it?” Charle’s tugged on his papa Thos’ hand, anxious to see what his surprise was.

“Come and I’ll show you, child,” with a quick nod at Porthos, Athos observed him going to the kitchen no doubt to fetch Aramis who was probably looking through a recipe book that Constance had gifted them with. Lord only knew Athos could barely boil water and Porthos… pfft! That man overcooks nearly everything until it’s tough as leather.

Leading Charles outside and to their barn, Athos felt the garcon’s feet begin to drag. “Something wrong, mon ange?” When he noted the tyke’s thumb going inside his mouth, Athos lips tightened. Staring over the moppet’s head to where Aramis and Porthos followed, both of their faces reflected the same look of concern Athos now sported.

“Don’t want to,” Charles whispered.

“You don’t want to go inside the barn is that what you are saying?” Athos went to his knees to be on eye level with the pup. “Tis nothing inside there that will hurt you,” he pressed a light kiss to the youngster’s cheek. “I promise. Cross my heart,” which Athos promptly did earning a small dimpled smile from his son.

"Okay," Charles further tightened his death grip on his papa's hand. When he entered the barn, papa Thos immediatley covered Charle's eyes with his hands. Feeling himself being led over to another spot, papa Thos then removed them. His papa's breath tickled his ear when he spoke into it.

"This is your surprise, petit," Athos placed Charle's hand on the thick shiny coat of the poney. He held his breath hoping his young one wouldn't be scared of it.

Uncertain, Charles gazed up at papa Thos while not removing his hand from the poney. "Mine?"

"Oui," Athos nodded, crushing the brim of his chapeau in his hands.

"Lovely piece of horse flesh, Athos," Aramis remarked. "Just perfect for our Charles."

"Gregoire told me that the Merens are calm, docile and hardworking," Athos observed that the poney wasn't a bit bothered by the close inspection Porthos and Aramis were giving it.

"I'm familiar with the breed," Aramis said. "They're quite hardy and considering the winters we get here in Paris that's a good thing as they're resistant to cold weather."

"Well Gregoire thought this particular poney would be a perfect fit for our petit," Athos smiled at his son, "and I agree."

"You'll 'ave ta come up with a fittin' name for 'im, pup," Porthos grinned watching the kid's face as Charles seemed lost for words.

"Actually," Athos glance slid from the poney to Porthos and back to the poney again, "tis a female." He noted Porthos roll his eyes at him and heard Aramis chuckling in the background.

"Kid's gonna be surrounded by 'em," Porthos grunted. "First Alex and now her."

"She looks like a Zenaide to me," Aramis tipped his chapeau back from his head, taking a good look at her again. "What say you, mon coeur?" he winked at Charles.

"Zannn...," Charle's paused, scrunching up his face. "Zanaa..." he wet his lips, prepared to try again.

"Tis too hard for him, Aramis," Athos observed Charles thinking hard and thought the garcon would come up with another name easier to pronounce. But he was pleasantly surprised when the youngster kept at it.

"Zaaaad...," Charles tried one more time. "Zad."

The inseparables were all pleased with the name and there were smiles all around.

"Zad sounds a fine name," Porthos ruffled Charle's hair. "Ya did good, whelp."

Right at that moment Zad's nose nudged at Charle's empty hand. Still skittish he stepped back only to bump into his papa Thos' legs.

"Here, petit," Athos placed some sugar cubes in the garcon's hand. "I think she'd like something sweet."

Timidly holding out the treat to Zad, Charles started to giggle when the poney's tongue tickled his skin as Zad lapped up the sugar cubes.

"I like her, papa Thos." Charle's small arms wrapped around his papa's legs, which was about as far as he could reach to hug him. "Merci."

"Mon ange," Athos spoke softly, "seeing you happy is all the thanks I need."

Sauntering over, Aramis laid a hand on the toddler's shoulder. "I predict that you, Charles, and Zad here," he stroked the poney's black mane, "are going to be firm friends."

"I never rode by myself," Charle's gazed apprehensively at his papas. "Always sat in front of my papa."

"Zad's just the right size for ya, pip squeak," Porthos laughed. "We'll get ya on her soon enough and next thing ya know you'll be ridin' like one of us."

"I sincerely hope not," Athos announced with just a hint of anger in his tone, much to the annoyance of his brothers. "We don't need Charles riding hell bent for leather and breaking his neck."

A finger tapping his chin, Aramis at first was going to argue the point then thought more upon it and nodded his agreement.

"Don't worry, peanut," Athos lifted Charles up and placed the child on Zad's back just to get the feel of her. "I have a feeling you'll have a natural seat and once you two get used to each other there will be no stopping you, Charles." He relaxed seeing that his son had accepted the poney and it appeared Zad accepted the garcon.

++++

_Note:_

Zenaide, French form of Zenaida (feminime) Greek derivative of Zenais which is derived from the name of the Greek God Zeus.

As some of you know I use Zad for d'Art's horse in all of my stories as that was the name of Luke's that he rode for the show. So I wanted to still keep with that here and looked for a French name that would be close enough for Charles to mangle. LOL!

The Merens or Cheval de Merens are small, rustic horses native to the Pyrenees and Ariegeois mountains of southern France. They are always black and are considered a beautiful horse breed. They require very little care and can survive on poor food, even when working. They are very versatile and are able to live all year outside without suffering from the weather, though they do react poorly to heat. They are known for their endurance, agility and surefootedness. They are considered mountain horses and in the past were used for farm work.


	16. Chapter 16

_Same day, evening - the inseparable's residence_

Having settled Charles for the night, the inseparables sat around an old hardwood table which had belonged to Porthos. They were all going to indulge in a few glasses of wine before bed.

In regards to the table, there were various nicks here or there some spread farther apart but it was the ones that were clustered together that had caught Athos' keen eye. "Were you sharpening your poignard on the table," Athos nodded to the numerous markings.

A deep chuckle escaped from Porthos' lips. "That's 'ow I kept count of my wins when I played cards."

"You kept a _count_ ," Aramis stared at his brother, both brows lifted high, shaking his head ruefully. Perhaps Porthos had been dropped on his head one too many times, since this was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard of. "You never told me of this before."

"Ya never asked," Porthos shot him a sorry look, " _before_."

"Needless to say," Athos' glance held a warning in them for his larger friend, "since the table is now in _our_ home you will not put anymore such markings on it," he gave Porthos a long, hard look.

"I can apply some elbow grease," Aramis grinned, "and with a little varnish the table will look good as new."

"But I like it this way," Porthos complained. "It gives the table character."

"Porthos, Porthos," Aramis chided. "There's character and then there's _character_."

"And what's that supposed ta mean?" Porthos glared at his friend, ready to plant his fist in that smug face of Aramis'.

"My, good man," Aramis huffed, rolling his eyes, "if you don't know I'm not going to point it out."

Jumping into the fray before his two friends came to blows, Athos held up a hand, "Charles had informed me that he wanted to show off his poney to Treville and Their Majestys on the morrow," he slowly savored his drink.

"I think the whelp 'as ta get used ta Zad first," Porthos had finished his first glass of wine, before that stupid argument with Aramis. Reaching out for the bottle again, he refilled his empty glass.

"From what we saw earlier today," Aramis had kept to just a single drink, pushing the bottle toward Porthos’ eager hands, "Athos was correct in that our petit garcon has a natural seat."

"I believe tis because Charles used to ride with Alexandre," Athos added. "I'm simply pleased to see that Cardinal Richelieu's words of warning to me never amounted to anything. Watching Charles with Zad makes me confident that our youngest has overcome his fear."

Thinking about what had happened to their son, Porthos vowed that if he ever saw Dupont around here again the man would leave Paris in pieces.

"Let us all make sure Charles takes Zad around our grounds first and if all goes well we'll later pay the Garrison a visit. Then we'll see whether or not Treville knows if the royals are available as well," Athos pushed his chair back, got up and walked over to a small end table to pick up a book. "A little light reading before bedtime," he waved it in the air.

Porthos and Aramis both shared looks of amusement with each other. They recognized the cover of the literature Athos was currently enjoying.

"Athos' idea of _light reading_ is a book on military strategies," Porthos grinned at the aggrieved look his older brother gave him. "It'll make you duller than you already are."

"Come now," Aramis protested, "Athos is far from dull. In a _rut_ maybe but never dull."

Telling himself not to rise to the bait, Athos raised his eyebrow. "You both should read it sometime. You never know when the tactics in it could come in handy."

"I'll stick to my religious studies and books of poetry," Aramis smiled, seeing Porthos roll his eyes. "And you, Porthos?"

"Card playin's more my game," Porthos grinned at them, "ya both know that." Hearing Athos quietly moan his distaste, Porthos turned his head to glare at him. "Nothin' wrong with an honest game of cards."

Cocking his head to the side Athos studied his brother until Porthos began to squirm. "Keyword in there is _honest_. Tis a fine example you'll be setting for our Charles."

"Kid won't know anythin' about it," Porthos grunted.

"There will always be whispers, mon ami," Aramis gently remarked.

"One of these days, Porthos," Athos leaned against the wall, "you'll cheat the wrong man."

Barking out a laugh, Porthos pointed a finger at Athos. "That'll be the day since we can't all be saints like you."

"I am hardly one destined for sainthood," Athos felt that this would be an ideal time to turn in before Porthos dragged him into an argument and yet he found himself staying in place.

"I'll follow Athos' example and read a few passages from my Bible before turning in," Aramis nodded at each man before walking away. "I'll pray for all our souls," he threw over his shoulder.

When the door quietly closed behind Aramis, Porthos was surprised to see Athos still in the same spot. "Ya gotta wonder about 'im at times."

"Aramis? How so?"

"As much as Mis reads that Bible of 'is," Porthos eyed his friend's closed door, "ya think some of that readin' would stick in 'is thick skull."

"You're talking about Aramis' philandering?" Athos' blue eyes were disturbed thinking upon it.

"God can't be smilin' down at 'im too much carryin' on the way 'e does," Porthos shook his head sadly. Truth tell, even though all three of them were close Porthos shared a special bond with the sharpshooter.

"If and when Aramis ever decides to enter the priesthood," Athos had never thought to ask his younger brother if taking Charles in changed the marksman's plans for the future, "I'm positive he'll prostrate himself before God and atone for his sins."

"God forgives even the tiniest of sins," Porthos murmured softly. "One thing I remembered my mother used ta say."

"And in Aramis' case," Athos drawled, "the _biggest_ of sins."

"God better not be in a hurry when Mis confesses his transgressions," Porthos snorted in amusement, "its gonna be a long list."

"On that note," Athos smiled, "I bid you bonne nuit."

++++

_Next day, late morning nearing noontime_

The inseparables stood together outside observing Charles riding Zad around the yard without any mishaps. For a three year old, the garcon had all the expertise of a seasoned rider. The only thing the child had needed was a boost up on the poney and then he was off.

"Gentlemen," Athos noted that Aramis and Porthos appeared duly satisfied with what they saw as was he, "I believe Paris awaits us."

++++

_Garrison - Captain Treville's office_

Hearing loud voices coming from outside, Treville went to the balcony. Leaning over the railing a huge smile split his face. Waving down at the inseparables Treville took the steps down to greet them. "Now who is this fine, young fellow?" he stared up into the petit's gamin features.

"It's me," Charles giggled. "See my poney papa Thos got me?"

Taking stock of the horse, Treville nodded his approval. "A Merens," he shot a quick look over at Athos. "Gregoire gave you one of his best."

"It was a pleasure to do business with him, Captain. My thanks for the recommendation," Athos dipped his head.

Waving his lieutenant's thanks aside, Treville was pleased to see the toddler sitting astride the black poney as if born to the saddle. Then he noted something quite strange. Something was squirming around inside Charle's jacket. When a pair of tiny black eyes peered out at him, Treville covered his mouth trying not to laugh. "I suppose Alex didn't want to remain behind?"

"All the mewlin' it did," Porthos laughed, "we didn't 'ave the heart to leave it at home."

Setting his kitten in front of him, Charles grinned at Alex who tried to crawl up Zad's long, black mane.

"Er," Treville hesitated to say anything but wanted to avert a catastrophe, "I'm not sure tis wise to let Alex do that." Worrying that the poney would rear up and buck Charles off, Treville readied himself to catch the garcon. When nothing like that happened he was truly surprised, especially when Alex daintily sat on top of the horse's head. The poney appeared completely untroubled by the petite creature's perch. "Amazing," Treville whispered.

Open-mouthed astonishment hit the three Musketeers at the same time as it did their captain.

"Not sure I'm believin' what I'm seein'," Porthos glanced at his friends.

"I'm seeing it and I still don't believe it," Athos was struck dumb at the sight.

"God truly does work in mysterious ways," Aramis mused.

"Roulette would 'ave thrown Alex off by now," Porthos grinned at the unusual picture they made.

"I doubt Roger would have taken kindly to it either," Athos chuckled.

"My Belle has a nice temperment but I think she'd have a thing or two to snort about if I placed a kitten on her head," Aramis winked at Charles.

"Alex made friends with Zad before we left," Charles petted his kitten with one hand while sliding his other up and down his poney's neck.

"Zad?" Treville turned to his men. "Tis the poney's name?"

"Short for Zenaide," Aramis explained.

"Ah!" Treville grinned. "Charles couldn't pronounce it I wager. Still tis a fine sounding name."

"Uh, Captain," Athos hoped this wouldn't be too much of an imposition but it would disappoint Charles if their timing was off, "by any chance are Their Majestys available?"

"I haven't been given their schedule for today," Treville looked curiously at his lieutenant. "May I ask why?"

"I want to show them my poney," Charles piped up. "Zad's a good horse. Thought they'd like to see it."

Smiling, Treville nodded. "Why don't we just all go pay them a visit and see if they have some time to spare for you, Charles."

"Goody!" Charles clapped his hands together. It was just that moment when Alex decided to jump back into his arms and missed.

Seeing the kitten flying through the air, Treville acted on pure instinct jumping up to catch the petite, orange piece of fluff before she got trampled on by the other horses milling about. Holding a trembling Alex in his arms, Treville gazed down at her. "I believe that you just used up one of your nine lives."

"Nine lives?" Charles' head swiveled around, encountering his papas all watching him. "Nine lives?" he repeated.

"A story to tell you later, mon petit," Aramis watched the captain hand the shaken kitten back to his son.

"I think we best head for the palace before Alex finds other mischief to create," Treville's lips twitched as he headed for the stable to get his own mount.

++++

_Royal Palace_

Coming down the long staircase both Queen Anne and King Louis reached the bottom where Captain Treville waited to speak with them.

"Well, Treville, we're here," King Louis wondered what had been so urgent that his old fox had come to call.

"Sire, young Charles wishes an audience with both you and Queen Anne," Treville smiled into their bemused faces.

"Charles knows he's welcome here at anytime," Queen Anne said. "Did he forget?"

"I believe this had been discussed before, Your Majesty," Treville could see her trying to remember the previous conversation. "It was to depend on the availability of there being someone who could take the garcon to the palace."

"Well someone ought to come up with a solution," King Louis huffed. "Charles has a royal throne to make use of. I didn't have it made for him just to see it sit idle."

"Quite so, sire," Treville gazed at the pair in thought. Queen Anne always had a soft heart, but the appearance of Charles into their lives had changed Louis greatly. "Since the inseparable's leave is over I expect Constance will be watching the lad for them whenever she has the time," his attention rested on the young queen again.

Smiling, Queen Anne knew what the captain hinted at. "I completely forgot that Contance and I had discussed that very thing," she felt relieved. "Being my seamstress Constance's presence is required a great deal."

"See," King Louis happily gazed at his wife, "we'll be able to see quite a bit of Charles then." Tugging on his leather gloves he frowned adding, "As long as I'm not stuck in one of those dreary council meetings." Turning to look at Treville he got back to the reason the captain was here in the first place. "Where is the youngster?"

"Come follow me, Your Majestys," Treville led the way back outside the palace.

++++

_Outside on the palace grounds_

"My, what a handsome looking poney," Queen Anne walked right up to the animal and reached a hand out to pet its muzzle, completely at ease with it.

Standing beside his papas, Charles watched Zad nuzzle the queen’s hand as it got closer to the poney. "She thinks you have a treat for her."

"What does she like to eat?" Queen Anne thought it a beautiful horse. "Louis, come," holding out her other hand, she waited for him to join her.

"Apples and sugar cubes are her favorites so far," Charles thought more about it. "I just got her so I'm not sure about the rest."

"Have you named her yet?" King Louis ran a hand lightly over the poney's right flank, knowing it was a sensitive area.

"Zad," Charles giggled when Alex hopped out of his arms to jump into the king's.

"Alex, you've come too!" King Louis laughed gayly, having not seen the petite kitten with Charles. "We should have a party," he glanced at Treville. "Should we not?"

"I doubt the purchase of a poney requires a celebration, Your Majesty," Treville countered dryly.

"You would go and put a damper on things," King Louis pouted. "Sometimes my old fox isn't any fun at all."

"Reminds me of someone else I know," Porthos grunted, throwing Athos a knowing look.

Ignoring Porthos, Athos noted the king looked at him with a question in his eyes. “Sire?”

“Unusual name for a horse, Athos,” King Louis waited for him to elaborate further on the moniker.

“Actually Aramis came up with the name, Your Majesty,” Athos nodded toward the marksman who was standing beside Charles. “He thought she looked like a _Zenaide_ to him.”

“But Charles calls her Zad,” Queen Anne, even though her attention was on the poney, had listened to what the Musketeer was saying.

“Our whelp can’t pronounce the name,” Porthos ruffled Charle’s hair. “Zad was as close as the kid could get.”

“It has a nice ring to it whichever young Charles chooses to use,” King Louis smiled down at the garcon. “Your papa chose wisely in your poney.”

“I cannot take all the credit for that,” Athos said with a light shrug of a shoulder. “Once Monsieur Parris knew Charles was from Gascony he had the Merens all picked out.”

“Why didn’t you say that it was Gregoire that sold you your poney?” King Louis lightly slapped Athos’ arm. “My personal stables have been practically filled from Gregoire’s stock,” he walked around his Musketeer. “The man’s an excellent breeder.”

“It was Captain Treville who recommended Gregoire to me,” Athos tipped his head toward the officer, “and I am happy he did so.”

Clapping his hands together, King Louis shot his old fox a somewhat irritated look. “Since my captain doesn’t think we should celebrate this happy occasion,” he bent down to lift the toddler back up into the saddle, “why don’t you show me and Anne how well you ride, Charles?”

Proud to show off his poney to Their Majestys, Charles gently nudged Zad in the sides and started to trot away. Keeping to the palace grounds together they kept everyone astounded at how well Charles handled his horse. Alex, in the meantime, was happy to stay in the king’s arms, purring contently.

“I’ll say one thing for the child,” Treville grimaced, observing Charles have to pull Zad to an abrupt halt lest he knock over the servant running towards the king and queen to give them refreshments, “the lad does everything with heart.”

“Too much so,” Athos murmured under his breath so that only his brothers could hear him. Turning his head to the side he noted Aramis and Porthos both having a hard time keeping their laughter in check.

“That’s how it should be, Treville,” King Louis glanced over at the inseparables and he also noted the amusement on the other two. “I suppose there’s a story here that you don’t want to share with us clueless people.”

“Your Majesty,” Athos drawled, “where should I begin?” When the young royal burst out laughing, Athos couldn’t help but join in.

“Ah, Athos, Athos,” King Louis chuckled, “when there is more time you will have to apprise me of all things Charles.”

“That could take all day,” Athos grinned, “if not more, sire,” to which more laughter ensued until Charles waved at them wanting their attention.

“Gentlemen," Queen Anne arched a delicate brow, "remember why we are here?" she succeeded on getting the men's focus back on the tyke who was still waving at them.

Joining them unannounced, Cardinal Richelieu put in an appearance. He went to stand beside Captain Treville and the inseparables, while keeping an eye on Charles. “The petit rides well for one of his age.”

“Which had nothing to do with us, Your Eminence,” Athos offered. “Charle’s pere, Alexandre, used to take him riding all the time,” his eyes were back on his son again, while he spoke to the cardinal. “All the credit goes to our petit.”

“Surely Monsieur d’Artagnan didn’t let the child ride on his own?” Richelieu was shocked.

“Non, non,” Athos winced knowing he hadn’t made himself very clear, no wonder Richelieu was confused. “Charles would sit up front with his pere.”

“Ah!” Richelieu nodded. “That makes more sense. I didn't think any parent would risk their young child in such a manner.”

“Beggin’ your pardon, Your Eminence,” Porthos interrupted with a sharp look at Athos, “I think we should make Charles stop before there’s an accident,” he nodded over to where their son had to make Zad maneuver around several other servants who were setting up a luncheon buffet for the royal couple.

“Er, oui,” Athos raised a hand, gaining the child's attention.

Happily trotting back over to the group, Charles was lifted from the saddle by his papa Mis. Arms encircling his papa’s neck he asked, “Did you see how good I was?”

“Mon Dieu!” King Louis exclaimed. “Not a shy bone in the poppet’s body!”

“Yeah,” Porthos grunted. “Pip squeak ‘ere’s gonna run us ragged I expect.”

When Charle’s feet touched the ground again, he instantly went over to the king. “I didn’t fall off, not once.”

Bending down to give up Alex to its rightful owner, King Louis dropped a kiss on top of the garcon’s head. “You were excellent!” Shooting a quick look at his wife he whispered, “Even though Charles shook up a few of our servants in the process.” Seeing Anne’s shoulders beginning to shake, Louis turned back to the child again. Holding out his hand he guided Charles over to the buffet table. “I don’t know about you, young one,” he waited to be handed a glass of wine, “but watching you gave me an appetite.”

“But you didn’t do anything,” Charles innocently remarked, to which he could hear moans coming from his papas and the captain. He didn’t understand either why they were all trying to tell him to be quiet. If it was because of what he had just said, King Louis didn't seem to mind. In fact the king appeared to find it funny.

“Men,” King Louis looked at them, his eyes alight with laughter, “anything Charles says to me is an enjoyment. Do not trouble yourselves so, feeling I may get offended.”

“Tis good of you to say that, sire,” Aramis dipped his head. “For one never knows what will come out of Charle’s mouth.”

“Ain't that the truth, Mis,” Porthos leaned over his brother’s shoulder, grinning.

“Can I have some milk for Alex?” Charles asked, while not really paying any attention to the adult’s conversation.

“Of course you can, mon coeur,” Queen Anne gestured to one of the servants. “But where is Alex? I thought she was with you.”

That was a good question, Charles thought as he looked around for her. She had been curled around his legs just a minute ago. Alex must have slipped away without him noticing.

“Oh no!” Treville cried out, which had all eyes turned his way seeing him pointing to the buffet table in horror. For there was Alex... happily eating her way through a plate full of sardines and salmon.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes below.
> 
> ++++

_Later, same day - back at the inseparable's home_

"Since Alex has had her fill of sardines and salmon," Athos stared at the orangish troublemaker and shook his finger at the kitten, "courtesy of Their Majestys, I'm not sure she'll be wanting any dinner."

Snorting, Porthos pointed over to where Alex now was trying to curl her petite body around Athos' right leg. "I've got a feelin' that tiny bit of fluff has a bigger appetite than mine."

Bending down, Athos picked her up and began to gently rub behind Alex's ears. "We never did get you and Aramis to market to purchase food for her."

"We'll pick up some tomorrow," Porthos went over and plucked Alex from Athos' arms. "Meantime tonight she can dine on our leftovers."

"Which would be?' Athos had no idea what Aramis had planned to prepare for them.

"A chicken dish one of 'is ladybirds taught 'im ta make," Porthos laughed. "Shame 'e ain't seein' 'er any longer. Think of the things she could a taught 'im."

"I'm trying to wipe my mind of the things she already did," Athos cracked a smile. "Speaking of Aramis where is he and our Charles?"

"'E and the runt went out ta feed the horses." Just as Porthos said this, Aramis came rushing inside carrying Charles. But Porthos’ easy grin, upon seeing them, changed into a concerned frown when he caught sight of the whelp. "Mis?"

Running his hand soothingly up and down the garcon's back, Aramis walked past both his brothers heading straight for Charle's room. The lad's head rested on Aramis' shoulder, thumb firmly tucked into his mouth.

"What happened to our happy cherub of earlier?" Athos drew close, placed a hand on Aramis' back to stop his friend, needing an answer. When Aramis turned around to face him, Athos could then see the flush on the toddler's cheeks. Head snapping up, his eyes locked on Aramis' worried features. "Charles is ill?"

"Our petit told me he was feeling funny while we were tending to our horses," Aramis placed his hand on the tyke's forehead and winced. "Too hot," he mumbled. "Have to get his fever down."

"Mis," Porthos hovered near the marksman's left shoulder, "kid was all right back at the palace."

"These things can come on quickly in children I believe," Aramis sent his brothers a helpless look.

"Done any doctorin' of kids lately?" Porthos asked, while his gut clenched just looking at his son.

Knowing his own limitations in that direction, Aramis slowly shook his head dropping a kiss on top of Charle's sweaty hair in the meantime. "Non. We'll have to talk to Doctor Perrot and see if he has any suggestions."

"He is the Garrison doctor," Athos drawled, "not a children's physician."

"I once heard him say that he used to be a good old fashioned country doctor," Aramis offered. "To me that means at some point Perrot would have experience treating children’s ailments.”

Both men followed Aramis into the garcon's room where Porthos immediately turned down the covers. They all pitched in to help undress their son and put on the child's nightshirt. Charles was being fussy the whole time, trying to push their hands away. It was a struggle but they managed to get the youngster settled.

"Constance perhaps could be of help," Athos was at first hopeful when he had suggested it and then began to worry he could be wrong.

“Doesn’t have children of her own,” Aramis pointed out sharply, more sharply than he had intended judging from the affronted look on Athos' face, but right now Charles was his main concern. “Porthos, would you get me a cold cloth to place on our poor wee one’s forehead?”

Grunting, Porthos went to do as asked throwing over his shoulder as he went, “Still don’t mean Constance ain’t ‘elped others with their sick kids.”

“I will go see if Doctor Perrot can make a house call for us,” Athos left for their main room, grabbed his chapeau then popped his head back into Charle’s room again. “I am relatively sure that if Their Majestys knew our son was ill they’d send us their own private physician.”

Huffing, Aramis threw his arms up. “This could simply turn out to be a common cold,” he sat beside the petit, listening to the youngster’s raspy cough. “I’ve never worried upon taking care of a sick child before.” Seeing the lad’s runny nose Aramis took out his handkerchief and gently wiped at it. ‘I’d feel ten times the fool to ask for the royal physician’s help if it really is just a cold.”

“Yeah, but I’d feel better knowin’ what the kid ‘as,” Porthos handed the cool cloth over to his brother and watched Aramis place it on the whelp.

“Papas,” Charles moaned as he restlessly twisted in his bed, “head hurts.” He rubbed at his throat too, grimacing when it hurt to swallow.

None of them missed that reaction and felt nothing but sympathy for their petit garcon’s suffering.

“I’m going for the doctor now,” Athos immediately took off, closing the door quietly behind him.

Seeing Charles rubbing his stomach Aramis placed his hand on top of his son’s. ‘Does it hurt there as well, mon coeur?”

“Oui,” Charles then turned onto his side and started to heave.

“Porthos!” Aramis pointed to the chamber pot in the corner of the room. “Grab it quickly!” His brother gave it to him just in time as the toddler began to vomit.

“Kid’s really sick,” Porthos sat on the edge of the bed, one hand gently running up and down Charle’s leg.

Upon noting all the symptoms Charles was experiencing, Aramis’ concern deepened. “This is more than a cold I fear,” he spoke more to himself than to Porthos. “I’m sorry, mon frere, could you fetch some juice, water and a piece of ginger root. We have to keep him hydrated and the ginger will help with Charle’s nausea.”

"I'm on it," Porthos left to go to the kitchen leaving the door ajar to let in another visitor.

Padding silently over to the bed Alex jumped on top of it, quietly mewling her displeasure at being ignored, butting her tiny nose against Charle’s warm face. When there was no reaction to her actions, she curled up beside him purring softly as if Alex realized Charles was ill.

“Hurts,” Charles moaned distressfully again, his eyes filled with tears pleading to both his papas.

“What else does, mon coeur?” Aramis could have wept right along with Charles. He simply felt inadequate to deal with something of this nature. Give Aramis a musketball in the leg or sword wound to work with and he’d be in his element. But this was his three year old son who was in pain and his confidence was lacking.

“Everything!” Charles cried out pitifully.

Which was more than enough for Porthos to hear when he came back with the items Aramis had requested. He gathered the pup into his beefy arms and rocked the crying enfant back and forth, murmuring nonsensical things softly into Charle’s ear. Looking over the kid's head to where Aramis silently stood by, Porthos felt like swearing. “This sure ain’t no cold that I ever saw.”

“Flu,” Aramis whispered, bending his head, staring at the handmade throw rug by the garcon’s bed. It had been a gift from Constance, lovingly made for their son. “Merde!” he ran both hands through his hair, making the curls stand out in ridiculous fashion. When the petit’s sobs eventually subsided, Aramis managed to get some fluids into Charles only to have the tyke bring it right back up again.

“Take this, pipsqueak,” Porthos held out the ginger root for the kid. ‘It’ll ‘elp your tummy troubles.”

“Okay.” After swiping at his nose and watery eyes Charles began to slowly chew on it.

“Porthos, I need some hot water for the flask that’s in the cabinet near the kitchen,” Aramis sighed in frustration. Something had to help the youngster’s discomfort.

“What for?” Porthos settled the whelp against a mound of pillows then got up from the bed.

“I’m going to place it on Charle’s stomach to help ease it,” Aramis gave the larger man a grateful smile for the aid he’s been giving him.

“I’ll gather up some cloths to wrap the flask in so the kid don’t get burned none." Placing a soft kiss on Charle's hot brow, Porthos left the room.

++++

_Kitchen area_

Digging the flask out Porthos waited for the water he was heating in the fireplace. It was then he heard the front door opening. Turning around Porthos didn't know who looked worse for wear... Doctor Perrot or Athos. Both men wore haggard looking expressions which surprised Porthos since the journey wasn't overly long. Figuring it came from worry over Charles, he kept his mouth shut.

"That garcon of yours," Perrot removed his overcoat, "can't seem to catch a break, Porthos."

"We would have been here sooner but the doctor had a few things to tie up before we left," Athos too removed his doublet and chapeau. "Is Charles any better?"

Holding out the flask and pointing to the water heating, Porthos bit his lip. "Mis thinks the runt's got the flu." Hearing Athos swearing softly, Porthos lifted a brow. "We've tried givin' him some water but the whelp spit it back up. So we held off givin’ 'im the juice. Right now Charles was chewin’ on some ginger root for his stomach ache."

"Fever?" Perrot spoke up, brow furrowed in thought.

"High," Porthos grunted.

"Not unusual in the circumstances," Perrot muttered, clutching his medical bag. "Which room is the lad in?"

"I'll show you," Athos guided the doctor into the petit garcon’s room. Since he let Perrot ahead of him, Athos hadn't yet caught sight of his son. When he did his breath caught in his throat. Athos saw Charle’s fever glazed eyes surrounded by sweaty bangs clinging to the youngster's face. Noting the child clutching his stomach, Athos didn't need anyone to tell him how much misery the tyke was in. When the pup held out his arms to him Athos instantly found himself sitting on the bed with the petit crying in his arms. "My bébé, my bébé," Athos crooned, "shoosh, mon ange. All will be well," he kissed the tip of Charle's nose.

"Missed you, papa Thos!" Charles hid his hot face in the crook of his papa's neck.

Clearing his throat, Perrot set his bag on the end of the bed and searched through it for what he needed. "Aramis tell me all of his symptoms so far." Listening intently to the Musketeer inform him how sick Charles had been, Perrot nodded continuously. "Mmmmm," he hummed, examining the garcon while Aramis explained how he had treated Charles up until now. 

"Well, Doc?" Porthos never liked waiting around for things to happen. This type of waiting averaged at the bottom of his list big time.

"I didn't say anything at first because I wanted to be sure," Perrot snapped his bag shut. "There's been an outbreak of flu in the city. Not a major one by anyone's standards," he took note of the inseparable's grim faces and shook his head. "Still tis been creating problems."

"Charles was doing fine before," Athos stated flatly. "How could he go downhill so fast?"

Chuckling, Perrot looked kindly upon the befuddled trio. "None of you ever had children or you'd know how _fast_ they pick up every germ out there." Placing his hand on Charle's warm forehead he grunted. "Aramis keep applying the cold compresses I believe they are helping."

"What else can we do ta 'elp the kid?" Porthos couldn't stand seeing his son like this. It ate at his soul.

"Just do what you've been doing until I arrived," Perrot nodded at the tray holding the glasses of juice and water. "The ginger root will soon settle the petit's stomach and Charles will be able to hold the liquids down."

"What about Charle's runny nose and sore throat?" Athos wiped the snotty nose with a clean handkerchief Aramis gave him.

"It goes hand in hand with the flu as it would for a cold, Athos." Standing in the room, Perrot could see that these Musketeers may very well worry themselves to death over this. "Look, this will just have to run its course," he kept his eyes on Charles as the lad sniffled quietly in Athos' arms. "I'm sure Charle's body is aching him as well," Perrot swept the lad's bangs away. "if it gets to be too uncomfortable for him prepare warm baths for the garcon. It will ease his discomfort."

"Doctor," something else worried Aramis, "I've noticed at times Charles shivering."

"Ah," Perrot nodded. "Chills could also occur."

"We have plenty of blankets," Athos said, reluctant to release the moppet yet to get more from the cupboard.

"If at anytime you believe the chills to be too much for Charles simply warm some bricks in the fireplace, cover them in towels and place them near his feet," Perrot was thoughtful for a second and added, "or you could turn him on his side and place them near his back."

"I've had the flu before," Aramis said, not fond of the memory either. "Lasted over a week and I still felt lousy afterwards."

"I know none of you want to hear this but it could be up to ten days," Perrot lightly touched the top of Charle's sweaty head. "Everyone's body is different and the virus will last different amounts of time for each one. It could be anywhere from five to seven days before Charles feels better," Perrot smiled at them in sympathy. "Rest, plenty of fluids and tender loving care are what will pull your son through this latest upheaval." Before he left Perrot added, "If you need my services again, gentlemen, you know where to find me."

"Thank you for coming out to check on him for us," relinquishing his hold of Charles to Porthos' care Athos stood up, holding out his hand.

"I've a tender spot for the lad," Perrot chuckled. "Wait until King Louis and Queen Anne hear Charles is ill."

"Oy!" Porthos groaned. "They can't come visitin' the kid 'ere," he waved his arms about. "We ain't got room for the royals with that entourage that'll be with 'em."

"I agree with your assessment, Porthos," Perrot smiled. "But I wouldn't be surprised if our young monarchs wouldn't want you to bring Charles to them."

"I made a remark earlier to my brothers about that very thing," Athos told the doctor. "Seeing how close they've become with Charles I thought perhaps once they heard our son was sick they may want their own physician to check him over." Pinching the bridge of his nose Athos closed his eyes for a few seconds, fighting off a headache the distress of all this had brought on.

"And you probably won't be far wrong, Athos." Putting his overcoat back on he opened the bedroom door to leave.

Noting Perrot was about to go, Athos remembered his manners. "I will see you out." It ended up Porthos joined them as both men saw the doctor to the door.

"One more thing," Perrot's glance took in the two of them standing tiredly beside each other, "this is the first of many hiccups in raising a child. But I'm sure being Musketeers you are all more than up to the task," dipping his head he bid them farewell.

" _Up to the task_..." Porthos' mouth opened and closed like a fish. Glancing at Athos he noticed the older man wince. Looking back at the kid's door, which was still open, Porthos knew Aramis had heard Doctor Perrot's parting words. He could only hope that the prayers Aramis began to say would see them all through this latest trial.

++++

_Note:_

What we know as hot water bottles were a little different back in this era. They were containers that were metal usually made from zinc, copper, glass, wood or earthenware. This was prior to rubber having been invented of course. Metal hot water flasks were then wrapped in soft cloth bags or just soft cloths to prevent burns.

I looked up the symptoms of the flu, how long it should last, etc. So I shouldn't be too far off the mark.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes below.
> 
> ++++

_The inseparable's home - four days later, in the morning hours_

The past days had been extremely long ones, and the nights even longer, for the inseparables as they took turns taking care of Charles into the wee hours of the morning. None of them had gotten a full night’s sleep and it showed. The last one to be with the enfant was Athos who shared the toddler’s bed. Somewhere he had found the time to close his eyes for a minute or two and was startled awake by Aramis who poked his head inside the room to check on their son.  
   
“You make enough noise to wake the dead,” Athos grumbled, untangling his limbs from the clingy tyke.  
   
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Aramis smirked, observing his brother who was all tangled up in the sheets nearly fall out of the bed. Going over to feel the petit’s forehead he broke out into a smile. “Finally it feels nearly back to normal.” Then a sudden urge to cough overcame him. Immediately covering his mouth with one of his fancy handkerchiefs, gifted to him by a personal friend, he hacked into it. “Merde! I hate being sick!”

Swaying slightly, Athos tried to focus blurry eyes on his brother. “Remember what Doctor Perrot told us all yesterday when he stopped by?”

Nodding his head, Aramis frowned. “Oui but it wasn’t like we didn’t know we’d become ill too,” he shrugged. “Being in close quarters like this it would have been impossible not to have.”

“Pity we couldn’t take up Their Majestys kind offer of sending our son to the palace to be tended by their physician.” The way Athos was feeling he could have used a bucket of cold water to dunk his head in. But he doubted that Perrot would recommend that treatment while he wasn’t feeling up to snuff.

“Mon Dieu!” Aramis exclaimed just thinking upon it. “What a catastrophe that would have been!”

“Oui,” Athos recalled Perrot telling them what transpired when talking to Doctor Babin, the royal's physician. “Between Treville, Babin and Perrot they managed to talk sense into Louis,” he huffed. “Imagine what would happen if he and the queen were to come down with this flu.” Feeling his forehead, Athos winced. “There’s nothing like sharing an illness.”

“If our Charles hadn’t insisted on you always sleeping with him,” Aramis pouted, “you wouldn’t be feeling that badly.”

“Apparently I’m better at cuddling,” Athos pointed out rather dryly then proceeded to cough.

“Bien,” Aramis was still pouting, “Porthos and I told the poppet that we’d work more on our _cuddling_ techniques.”

“Captin’s been good about us not bein’ able ta resume our duties,” Porthos interrupted, while walking in with a tray of juice and hot porridge for Charles.

“He couldn’t be very happy being short men again,” Athos sighed. “Perrot was very strict about none of us attempting to leave the house,” he ran a hand through his shaggy hair. “We can’t even expose Constance to this because she spends a good portion of her time with Queen Anne,” Athos went to the door. “Not that I would have asked her to come anyway after finding out how bad this could get.”

“Kid’s still asleep?” Porthos frowned down into the bowl of steaming porridge. “Thought ‘e’d be awake by now.”

“He was fitful again during the night,” Athos explained, sniffing disdainfully at the porridge. It was never one of his favorite things to eat, even when Serge tried to shove it down his throat for breakfast at times. “How are you feeling, Porthos?”

“Headache from ‘ell!” Porthos grunted. “Achy, feverish,” he glanced at his brothers, “just like the rest of ya are feelin’.”

“On the plus side,” Aramis tried to smile but it fell slightly short of the mark, “I haven’t thrown up yet?”

“Ya just ‘ad ta say it,” Porthos grumbled, “didn’t ya?”

Staring oddly at Porthos for that remark, Aramis tilted his head to the side. "Tis a good thing is it not?"

“ _Not_ ,” Porthos shot back. “Cause now I’m reminded on what I’ve been tryin’ ta ignore for the past half hour.”

Folding his arms, Athos studied the larger man closely. “What is that?”

“Upset stomach,” Porthos glared at Aramis who stepped back a few paces from him. “So ‘elp me, Mis, if I upchuck it will be all over ya.”

Pointing to himself, mouth agape, Aramis felt his friend was taking this a little too far. “You’re blaming me for feeling ill?”

“Nah,” Porthos poked at his own stomach. “Jus for talkin’ about throwin’ up,” he placed the whelp’s tray on the nightstand. Giving a curt nod to both his brothers Porthos left, grumbling as he walked past the door about whose boots he was going to vomit into.

Rubbing his chin, Athos caught the perturbed look crossing Aramis' face. "That could have gone better."

"Porthos is Porthos and nothing will ever change that," Aramis chuckled. Seeing how worn out Athos looked, he had a suggestion for his friend. "Why don't you seek your own bed and rest without being disturbed by petit limbs," Aramis sat down on the edge of the bed. "I'll try to get Charles to eat something."

Dipping his head Athos was more than happy to do as suggested. "Merci." Pointing to their son, he smiled. "You can start practicing your cuddling too." Leaving Aramis to it, Athos quietly closed the bedroom door behind him.

Stirring under the covers Charles turned over on his back blinking open his eyes. Seeing his papa Mis sitting on the bed, he held out his arms.

Holding his petit garcon close, Aramis placed a kiss on the lad's brow. "How do you rate my cuddles this morning, mon coeur?"

Since his fever's gone down Charles felt slightly better, resting comfortably in his papa's arms. "Papa Thos' are nicer."

Scrunching up his face, Aramis let Charles sit back against the headboard while he reached for the porridge. "There's no accounting for taste apparently," he tisked. "Since your stomach has settled Doctor Perrot told us you should be able to hold this down."

"Mmmmm, okay," Charles took the bowl and began to slowly eat the porridge. In between swallows, his papa Mis gave him some juice to help the food go down better. Eating about half of it, Charles shoved the bowl back into his papa's hands.

Happy that Charles ate as much as he did, Aramis gently wiped the remains of porridge from around the toddler's mouth. While he was doing this another round of coughing wracked his body. Turning away from his son Aramis whipped his handkerchief out from his shirt pocket.

"Sound bad, papa," Charles patted him on the back. "You're sick like me too?"

"Unfortunately you are correct," Aramis really needed to lay down. "All of us are."

Eyes going wide, Charles squeaked out, "Papa Porth and Thos are sick?"

"Afraid so, mon coeur," kissing the tip of the youngster's nose Aramis stood up, narrowly missing stepping on Alex as the tiny creature had jumped off the bed onto the floor right in his path. "You really need to work on that nine lives thing," he admonished the kitten who paid him no heed. It almost appeared as if Alex turned up her nose at him. Most undignified he thought.

"Listen to papa Mis, Alex," Charles scolded. "You used one already," he wagged a finger at his pet. "The captain said so."

Observing the by-play going on between Charles and the petit furball, Aramis slipped out the door. He would be back checking on the garcon again shortly.

++++

_Main room of the house_

Finding Porthos sitting up in his favorite chair, with head tilted back, eyes closed and mouth partially opened, Aramis tried not to disturb him. Tiptoeing around his friend, as quietly as he could, Aramis was about to enter the kitchen when a knock at the front door stopped him. Knowing Athos was trying to sleep it was left up to him to answer it.

When he did, Aramis couldn't have been more surprised. Standing about a foot away from the front porch were several of the palace retainers, some of whom he recognized from all the duty he pulled there. All of them were laden down with baskets of food and fruit.

"Monsieur Aramis, we have gifts from Their Majestys for your son Charles and for yourselves," Paul wasn't sure whether or not they should just leave the food on the porch or enter the house. All the staff were afraid they would get the flu if they went inside so none of them were anxious to enter.

Trying not to get to close to them Aramis, tired as he was, appreciated the royal gesture. Also he didn't want to expose the servants to their germs. "Give the king and queen our thanks and you can tell them that Charles is beginning to feel slightly better."

"And what of you and your brothers, Monsieur?" Paul asked, for he could see the lines around the marksman's eyes. Normally Aramis was known for being the outgoing one of the inseparables but today he looked far from it.

"Alas," Aramis ran a hand through his messy hair, "we all have contracted the flu to some degree." Hearing harsh coughing come from inside the house, he grimaced. "Some more than others," he tacked on.

"I am sorry to hear that," Paul nodded, "as I am sure Their Majestys will as well." Glancing at the others that came with him he was still uncertain what to do with the gifts.

"For all of your sakes," Aramis said, "leave the baskets right where you stand. I'll come down to get them after you depart." A collective sigh of relief could be heard and Aramis barely concealed his amusement at the sound. Waving the staff off, Aramis waited until they were a good distance away before going to retrieve the presents.

Lifting each basket one by one and carrying them inside, Aramis found his mouth watering despite the way he was feeling. One basket was filled with an assortment of fine wines, obviously for the adults. Another two were filled with assorted sweets, fruit and pastries while yet another two were filled with a variety of smoked meats. Clearly this was a veritable feast fit for a king, or queen, with all these delicacies.

Since two of his brothers were currently sleeping, or attempting to, Aramis arranged the baskets in the kitchen and promised himself he wouldn't touch any of them until Athos and Porthos were awake. Though the basket full of wine was quite tempting and could prove beneficial, or so he told himself. Not positive Charles would be up to eating any of the treats yet, Aramis was still going to let the tyke know how much the young royal couple had thought of them.

When another headache, and coughing fit, hit him, Aramis decided that perhaps he too would lay down for awhile again. Figuring it was his turn with Charles, he went back to the toddler's room. Seeing his son sleeping again Aramis crawled under the covers, gathered the child to him and closed his eyes.

++++

_A few hours later_

Cracking the door to Charle's room open, Athos peered inside and smiled. He could see Aramis had been working on his _cuddles_ as their son was cozily resting in his brother's arms. Hating to wake either of them up, but needing an answer to a burning question that had bothered him since he had been in the kitchen, Athos entered and pulled a chair over to the side of the bed where Aramis slept.

"Aramis," Athos whispered, trying not to awaken the pup. "Aramis," he hissed as quietly as he could. Trying several more times, with no success, Athos stood up leaning over his brother. Having once learned, to his grave misfortune, not to touch Aramis when he was asleep Athos resorted to an unusual tactic that had worked under different circumstances before. "Aramis, we're needed at the Garrison." He announced it loudly enough that Athos worried Charles would indeed wake up and the petit needed all the sleep he could get.

Shooting up in the bed Aramis blinked sleepy eyes open only to scowl at Athos' presence. "I heard you," he snapped. "We're on sick leave."

"Tis the only way I could wake you, mon frere," Athos nodded at Charles. "I feared shaking your shoulder and earning another black eye like last time."

Wincing at the memory Aramis carefully got out of the bed, covering Charles back up with the blankets. The lad was still sound asleep which was all well and good as far as Aramis was concerned. Turning to face Athos, he noted that his friend looked like he felt slightly better as did Aramis himself. Their bodies had indeed needed more sleep to help them overcome this flu. "So what was so urgent you needed to bother me?"

"What are those baskets doing in our kitchen?" Athos crossed his arms, leaning back against a dresser.

"You woke me up for that?" Aramis huffed, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

"Oui," Athos grinned. "I wanted to know before I opened the basket full of wine."

"Oh for the love of God!" Aramis cried out softly, grabbing Athos by the elbow and dragging the man out of the room. "They were delivered several hours ago by some of the palace servants."

"Ah!" Athos figured it had been something like that and not magical fairies paying them a visit. Though he knew Charles loved to believe in things of that nature. "King Louis and Queen Anne are always most thoughtful."

“Thoughtful about what?’ Porthos had woken up at the sounds of his brother’s voices.

“King Louis and the queen sent us baskets filled with food, sweets and wine,” Aramis explained, watching Porthos’ eyes light up at the mention of food and no doubt in particular the wine.

"We'll 'ave ta thank ‘em in person when we're better and outta 'ere," Porthos grinned, hoping his stomach would feel up to enjoying the fare. “Where did ya say ya put ‘em?”

“I didn’t,” Aramis grinned as his friend glowered at him. “Oh you’re as bad as Athos,” he complained good naturedly, pointing towards the kitchen. “But before you go tearing into them do you think it wise considering your stomach issues?”

“I know,” Porthos griped. “I’m gonna chew on some ginger root and see how I feel.” Sternly he looked at his brothers. “Now don’t the two of ya go and eat your way through ‘em before I get ta see what’s in ‘em.” Before he left for the kitchen in search of the ginger root Porthos stopped, turned around and pointed a finger in Athos' direction. "And no touchin' that wine yet either."

Trying not to laugh, Athos dipped his head. “Duly noted.” When Aramis began to chuckle, he poked the marksman in the ribs to keep him quiet. No sense in making Porthos angry. His brother makes a poor patient. Athos likened his larger friend to that of a bear with a sore head when sick.

Feeling something brushing against his leg he looked down to find Alex blinking her black eyes up at him. Bending down Athos picked her up. "I'm afraid since we've been ill nothing's been purchased for you at market yet," he stroked a hand up and down her back. "Fear not," Athos smiled down at Alex while she purred in his arms, "I'm sure we can find some delicacy for you from amongst those food baskets."

"Do you believe she understands you," Aramis grinned.

"Why not," Athos countered. "Most animals are intelligent," he put the kitten back down on the ground. "More so than some humans I know," earning a laugh from Aramis that soon turned into another coughing jag. With a heartfelt sigh and shake of his head upon listening to Aramis, Athos went to see how Charles was feeling.

++++

Finding his son sitting up in bed looking much better than before, Athos pulled a chair over. "Guess what, mon ange?"

Not feeling up to guessing games, Charles simply shrugged his shoulders.

"King Louis and Queen Anne have thought about you and us while we're dealing with this flu and sent us baskets of food, pastries and other sweet treats," Athos deliberately left out the wine, feeling the petit didn't need concern himself with that part of the gift.

"My tummy feels better," Charles gazed hopefully into his papa Thos' face.

Gently taking his son's chin in his hand, Athos tilted it upward. "You just want the sweets." When his son giggled, it was music to his ears. It meant that Charles was indeed on the road to recovery though they still had a ways to go before they were all sure the youngster had shaken the illness off.

"Where's Alex?" Charles lifted the blankets and looked under them but didn't see his kitten.

"Last seen Mistress Alex was with Aramis," Athos kissed his son's nose.

"Okay," Charles frowned. "Could you bring her back to me?"

"Lonely, eh?" Athos glanced over at the bookcase he and Porthos had worked on building for the garcon. "I could read you a story and then if it's close to lunchtime and you feel up to eating," he smiled as his son's eyes brightened, "we'll raid those baskets for something I think you could hold down."

Going over to the bookshelf, Athos picked one of Charle's favorites. It was Tales of Mother Goose by Charles Perrault. "Mmmmm," he hummed, glancing sideways at his son. "Which one would you like me to read?" he thumbed through the book. "La belle au bois dormant, Le petit chaperon rouge, La Barbe bleue, Le Maistre Chat or Cendrillon?"

"All of them, papa Thos!" Charles clapped his hands in delight then patted the empty space beside him. So when his papa scooted down beside him, Charles snuggled tightly into his papa's shoulder. Listening to the deep timber of papa Thos' voice, Charles lost himself in the stories.

++++

_Note:_

Charles Perrault was a French author who live in 17th century France. He laid the foundations for a new literary genre, the fairy tale, with his works derived from pre-existing folk tales. Sleeping Beauty. Cinderella. Puss in Boots. Little Red Riding Hood were but a few.

Below are the titles I used in French for Tales of Mother Goose with their English versions:

The original title "Tales of Mother Goose" in French was: _Histoires ou contes du temps passé, avec des moralités: Contes de ma mère l'Oye._ (I'd say that was a mouthful.)  
Stories or Tales from Times Past; or, Tales of Mother Goose (1697) included:  
The Sleeping Beauty in the Wood _(La belle au bois dormant)_  
Little Red Riding Hood _(Le petit chaperon rouge)_  
Blue Beard _(La Barbe bleüe)_  
The Master Cat; or, Puss in Boots _(Le Maistre Chat, ou le Chat Botté)_  
The Fairies _(Les Fées)_  
Cinderella; or, The Little Glass Slipper _(Cendrillon, ou la petite pantoufle de verre)_  
Ricky of the Tuft _(Riquet à la Houppe)_  
Little Thumb _(Le petit Pouçet)_


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I would have had this chapter up sooner but got asked to participate in Fig Newton's Alphabet Soup for Stargate SG-1. This time it's kidfic and I did a little Danny story for her and then waited for the beta, finished that and send it off. It will be posted on Archive, since I don't have an LJ acct. and don't need one for this, Nov. 28th under the Stargate SG-1 fandom. Fig will have my link to the story then for her anthology on her LJ.
> 
> So I'm back on track again. Enjoy the new chapter!
> 
> See note at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Five days later, mid morning - Garrison_

Finally the flu was just a bad memory in the inseparable's household. Charles ran circles around them, as usual, which told all the men that their son had overcome his illness.

Since they felt more like themselves again, the inseparables had told Charles that they could now go back to work. It turned out that was the very last thing their son wanted to hear, when the petit protested to a degree that surprised them. Though it really shouldn't have. Since they had all been stuck in the house, Charles had had them all to himself. Now the toddler would have to learn to share again.

Discussing amongst themselves what they should do it had been decided that a bribe of major proportions was in order. They knew this wasn't proper child rearing by anyone's standards. Still, they would be the only three who knew about it.

They placated Charles with a trip to the Garrison and the Royal Palace to thank Their Majestys for their generous gifts of food stuffs. Plus it would give the garcon time to become reacquainted with Zad again.

Swinging Charles off the back of the lad's black Meren, Treville let the petit garcon sit on his shoulders. Hearing the tyke's squeal of delight warmed Treville's old soldier's heart. Especially after how sick Charles had been.

"Men you appear fit as fiddles," Treville gave them a thorough once over. "I will expect all of you to present yourselves at muster at first light on the morrow."

"We assumed as much, Captain," Athos dipped his head. "Since we are here a stop at Constance's place is on our agenda to arrange for her to take charge of Charles for us."

"Very good," Treville would have nodded his head but Charles had a firm grip on the sides of his face. It prevented him from acknowledging his lieutenant's words. "Charles, I would prefer you to hold on by wrapping your arms around my neck."

When he felt the child's small hands release him, Treville was pleased. But Charles showed his inner strength by nearly cutting off Treville's air supply instead. "Not so tight," he managed to croak out greatly relieved when the lad obeyed.

"Hey, Charles!" Serge hailed the petit, waving a long, narrow baguette at the garcon. "Heard ya just came in." Grabbing one of the youngster's feet Serge tugged on it.

"Ya look like you're ready ta clobber some poor sod with that loaf of bread," Porthos laughed, seeing the blush that stained Serge's face turning it red.

Being so excited that Charles was in the Garrison, Serge had forgotten he had it in his hands when he raced outside. "Just came out of the oven all nice and crisp. When one of my lads told me you were all here I rushed outside," he grinned sheepishly, "bien, you can see the baguette came with me."

"A very likely story," Aramis gently teased the former soldier.

"Anyway," Serge let go of Charle's foot, "it's good ta see ya lookin' chipper again."

"Merci," Charles smiled back at the older man. "I am much better now."

"Tell ya what," Serge waved his baguette in the air again. "If ya don't forget ta stop back before ya go home I learned a new recipe for brioche," his gaze shifted to Porthos whom Serge knew had a huge appetite. "I'll make a batch for ya to take with ya."

"My mouth's waterin' just thinkin' about your sweet buns," Porthos' stomach chose that moment to growl, making everyone chuckle except Athos who simply rolled his eyes.

"Amazing," Athos' brow shot up. "It wasn't so long ago Porthos finished breakfast." Hearing Treville's quiet snuff of laughter, he nearly joined in.

"We all know Porthos is the Garrison's bottomless pit where food is concerned," Aramis winked at Charles who was overcome with a fit of the giggles again.

Lifting Charles off his shoulders, Treville placed the petit on the ground. "Alas duty calls," he glanced at Serge. "Don't you have a kitchen and hungry Musketeers to tend?"

"Aye, sir, I do," Serge mumbled. With a wave of his baguette, he headed back to his domain.

"I presume all of you are going to the palace," Treville knew about the gifts Their Majestys had sent his men and Charles. Figuring they would want to give their thanks to the royal couple, he approved.

"After Charles has had the opportunity to say hello to our other brothers," Aramis offered pleasantly.

"Just so you know," Treville observed the youngster craning his neck staring at Aramis' doublet and wondered what that was all about, "their agenda is clear for the day. So your visit is perfectly timed," he ruffled Charle's hair. "They have been most anxious over the garcon's health as everyone has," Treville remarked. "Including the cardinal. That man is full of surprises lately." His hand dropped from the petit's hair only to end up tapping Charles on the tip of his nose. "Perhaps you could call on him as well."

"I gather he too is at loose ends," Athos countered dryly, noting amusement spread over the captain's scarred face.

"Richelieu has discovered that his paperwork multiplies when he's not around," Treville's eyes crinkled up in the corners as he grinned, remembering the last time the cardinal complained to him about it. "Much to his dismay His Eminence has come to a sad understanding that there are no such things as magical beings who would take care of that problem for him." Treville's remarks brought about barks of laughter from his men.

"We will make sure ta do so, Captin'," Porthos was still chuckling.

Peeking its petit head out of Aramis' doublet, Alex mewed its discontent at being hidden away once more.

"Ah!" Treville looked at the poppet again with understanding. Now he knew why Charles was so preoccupied with Aramis. "There she is. For a minute there I thought you four had left Alex behind."

"She needs to visit too," Charles took his pet from papa Mis, cradling the kitten in his arms.

Satisfied all was well, Treville waved goodbye to them. "Enjoy your visit everyone."

++++

Walking side by side with papa Porth, they passed the training area in the courtyard. Holding tightly onto Alex, Charles waved at the Musketeers that were practicing their skills.

Reciprocating were some of the men that had gotten to know the petit better. Germain was over by the benches cleaning weapons. Dufort was setting up targets for musket practice, while Eustis was getting beaten up in hand to hand. But they all took time out to greet the Garrison's newest favorite, along with the other soldiers.

As everyone was catching up, it was then yelling could be heard from across the courtyard where other Musketeers were practicing their sword work.

Eyes widening, Charles looked up at his papas. "Ooooooh, bad words!"

"Oh parbleu!" Porthos shook his head.

"I wonder what could be wrong," Aramis hummed, knowing very well how trying it could get teaching raw recruits the fundamentals.

"Mes amis, let us go see what is amiss." Having been out of commission for nearly ten whole days, Athos was curious on how the new recruits were shaping up. Coming upon an extremely frustrated Merle, Athos placed a comforting hand on the man's shoulder.

"Athos!" Merle's demeanor changed upon seeing the lieutenant standing by his side. Then when he noted the others with him, his entire face lit up. "It gladdens my heart to see all of you here."

"Tis nice to see you too, mon frere," Athos' sharp eyes took in the lines of exhaustion he could see in Merle's face. "Training not going as expected?"

"You could say that," Merle huffed. " _Raw_ doesn't even begin to cover it." He ran a hand through his sweaty hair. "I've been drilling these men for the better part of the week and I believe they've just realized what the sword they're holding is actually used for."

"Either you run the day or the day runs you, Merle," Aramis remarked. Earning a dark scowl from the younger man.

"Then these past days have been _running_ me," Merle swiftly retorted. He wasn't really angry at Aramis, more at himself really.

"Then you'll be delighted to know we'll be back to work on the morrow." Athos clapped Merle on the back.

"Thank the good Lord for small mercies," Merle grinned from ear to ear upon hearing this welcome news.

"No more bad words," Charles shook his finger at the Musketeer.

Surprise registered on Merle's features upon the petit garcon's warning. "Mmmmmm," he hummed. "I dislike making promises I may not be able to keep," he smiled at the serious expression that crossed the toddler's face. "I can only promise to do my best."

"Okay," Charles tugged on papa Porth' hand. "Can we go to the palace now?"

"Do let's go before our son begins to nag us to death," Aramis whispered to Athos.

"We'll go back for our horses and leave now," Athos took Charle's other hand so that the lad could walk in-between both he and Porthos. Alex had decided to perch herself on their moppet's shoulder. It's tail swished happily back and forth across their son's back.

++++

_Royal Palace_

"Tis good to see you up and about, mon petit," King Louis went to his knees before Charles. Glancing upward his gaze settled on the inseparables, his smile widening. "Tis nice to see all of you back on your feet again."

"Our thanks, Sire," Athos responded for all of them. "We will be fit for duty beginning on the morrow."

"Then you'll be leaving Charles with Constance as you have discussed?" Queen Anne had just joined them, catching that last part of their conversation.

"We'll be seein' 'er before we 'ead back for home ta make arrangements," Porthos offered.

"If all is well with Constance," Aramis watched Charle's being cuddled between the young royals, "she will watch our son until our day is finished."

Deciding she felt squeezed in, Alex jumped from Charle's shoulder where she still sat. Landing on her paws she began hissing her displeasure.

"Stop that!" Charle's ordered. "Bad kitty! Bad, bad, bad!"

Her hissing immediately ceased at the censure aimed at her. Instead, Alex decided a change of tactics was in order. Curling her tiny body around the queen's ankle, she purred softly.

"Can a kittin' be put in charge of battle strategy?" Porthos nudged Athos in the ribs. "Cause that was a smart move on 'er part."

Seeing that Alex had gone from viper mode to sweetness and light in an instant, Athos had to wonder that himself.

"I was about to say," Queen Anne laughed as Alex's fur tickled her ankle, "Constance is supposed to be making a new gown for me. She'll be starting on the morrow as well."

"Then we'll have Charles here." King Louis was delighted upon hearing this. "Timing couldn't be more perfect."

"Why is that, Your Majesty?" Athos worried what was behind the young monarch's words.

"I have to attend a council meeting," King Louis' eyes settled on the garcon. "Charles can accompany me and keep me from tearing my hair out."

"Mon Dieu!" Aramis muttered quietly for only his friends to hear. Glancing at the queen's mirth, fleeting though it was, she too obviously heard him.

"That could spell disaster right quick," Porthos groaned softly. When someone from behind him whispered into his ear, Porthos nearly jumped out of his skin.

"I totally agree with you, Porthos." Richelieu would try, probably without much success, to dissuade the young king that bringing Charles along wouldn't be a wise move.

Spinning around, Porthos glared at him. "Ya nearly gave me 'eart failure, Your Eminence," he whispered back fiercely. Cardinal or not, the man had really shook him up.

"Apologies," Richelieu's lips curled upward. "But I do believe we are on the same page."

Grunting, Porthos stepped aside so that the cardinal could pass by.

"Charles," Richelieu bent to pick the child up, "feels like a long time since I've last seen you." He placed a kiss on the toddler's cheek then put him back down. Out of the corner of his eye Richelieu noted the stunned looks he received from nearly everyone present. "My heart beats like any others despite what rumors to the contrary may say about me," he chuckled. "Tis there," Richelieu placed a hand over his heart. Grinning slyly he added, "I just hide mine better."

"I swear there are times when I don't trust my own eyes," Aramis remarked to his brothers. "This is one of them."

"Join the club," Porthos snorted, astonished at seeing this side of Cardinal Richelieu.

Athos simply stood there taking everything in, not having words to offer his comrades. 

Observing the Musketeer's astonishment at his actions, Richelieu smirked. "None of this goes outside these palace walls, mind you." He noted the kitten prancing around his feet. "It does my reputation no good if our subjects perceive me as being soft."

"Alex!" Charles cried out, not being able to grab his kitten in time. He watched as she tried to claw her way up the cardinal's long cape. About to pull her off Charles abruptly stopped when the cardinal waved him away. He plucked Alex from his cape, stroked her fur and turned the kitten back over to its rightful owner none the worse for wear.

Turning around to face the king again, Richelieu tapped a finger to his chin studying the young royal. "Now, Sire, as to your bringing young Charles to your meeting..." he never got the chance to finish as his monarch waved a hand airily.

"Those meetings are most tiresome and having Charles along should be fun." Locking eyes with his wife, King Louis silently pleaded for her to side with him on this matter. "Do you not think so, ma cherie?"

Seeing steam about to erupt from the cardinal's ears, Queen Anne kept her own council on the matter and kept silent. Seeing disappointment clearly written on her husband's face, she vowed to placate him later.

"My faith!" Richelieu exclaimed. "You do test me at times!" He threw up his hands, sighing. "Do as you will, Your Majesty," you usually do Richelieu sourly thought. He dreaded the moment he would have to deal with disgruntled members of the council when they came knocking on his door. Feeling someone pulling on his cape, Richelieu gazed upon Charles seeing that the tyke was upset.

"I promise to be good." Charle's thumb was about to go into his mouth when the cardinal intercepted it.

"Tis not you I'm worried about," Richelieu bent low to whisper, sharing a secret with the petit. "Tis the king's antics," he tapped the youngster's nose. "But tis just between the two of us," he chucked the garcon lightly under the chin.

"I'll make sure the king behaves himself," Charles whispered back. Enjoying the fact that he shared a secret with such an important man.

Lips twitching, Richelieu barely contained his amusement. If the king ever got wind of this conversation, he would be highly embarrassed.

Not knowing what His Eminence and Charles had discussed, the inseparables noted how serious their son appeared despite the fact the cardinal seemed the complete opposite.

Porthos and Aramis shared a long look.

"I don't even want ta know what all that was about," Porthos heard a significant snort come from Aramis. Seeing that Athos didn't appear troubled by whatever was being said to their kid, Porthos figured he wouldn't let it bother him either.

"I'm off," Richelieu announced. "Work to do." Snapping his fingers, he reminded himself of something. "Before all of you depart for home I'd like you to stop at my office as I have something for Charles."

"Merci," Charles arms reached out toward the cardinal. When the older man bent down, he hugged him.

When the display was finished, he released the tyke. Eyes darting from one person to the next, Richelieu dared any one of them to make a smart remark to him. When no one spoke up, he bowed before the royal couple and made his departure.

"I'll be damned," Porthos murmured, somewhat in shock.

"I'll be double damned," added a bemused Aramis. Not hearing anything from their eldest brother, he glanced back at Athos.

"I have no words to convey," Athos softly uttered. "Except, I believe I've said this before, that Charles could quite possibly be our regiment's secret weapon."

++++

_Note:_

The quote: _"Either you run the day or the day runs you"_ is by Jim Rohn. He was an American entrepreneur, author and motivational speaker.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, late afternoon - the inseparable's house_

Once home, Athos reflected upon what took place when they visited with the cardinal.

Remembering Richelieu's words, they stopped at the Palace-Cardinal before leaving for home. Being shocked at the gift His Eminence bestowed upon their young son was putting it mildly. The cardinal kept surprising the inseparables at nearly every turn lately and delighting Charles no end. The gift had been a finely hand-tooled Spanish saddle just in their toddler's size. Zad would no doubt be strutting like a peacock when the Meren eventually wore it.

Charles could only oooh and awe at first while his tiny fingers traced the patterns on the saddle. Then he began dancing circles around the cardinal, which he was want to do when overly excited as he was now. He couldn't wait to see Zad fitted with the saddle.

Watching their son hug Richelieu once again all the Musketeers could do was stand around dumbfounded, thank the cardinal for his generosity and leave with a promise that Charles would come back and show off Zad wearing the gift.

It did Athos no good worrying about what else the cardinal would give Charles. After all, his son had his own throne. So nothing after that could really top it. Or so he thought.

"One would think the petit would be wanting a nap by now," Aramis looked out the window toward the barn. "But non," he smiled, "Charles insisted he needed to see what the saddle looked like on Zad before coming inside."

"He'll be using it on the morrow," Athos threw his chapeau onto an overstuffed chair. "But of course our garcon couldn't wait."

"Ah, here they come," Aramis drew back from the window, letting the curtains drop. When the door opened Charles skipped inside wearing a pleased smile on his face. "What did Zad think of the gift, mon coeur?"

"Zad loved it!" Charles crowed. "I made sure papa Porth was really careful with it too."

Looking over Charle's head, Aramis caught Porthos rolling his eyes.

"Kid kept orderin' me ta handle it dainty like," Porthos grumbled. "Acted as if it was made outta spun glass or somethin'," he snorted.

"I wonder if this new side of Richelieu extends to Charle's papas too," Aramis mused. "All of us could use new clothes and weapons."

"Let us not look a gift horse in the mouth," Athos announced dryly. "Or in this case the cardinal." Scooping up Charles in his arms he went to help the lad clean up before dinner.

"Yeah, don't push your luck, Mis," Porthos studied the marksman knowing that if you gave Aramis an inch he'd take that extra mile.

Realizing Athos was correct, Aramis shook off his curious thoughts and made for the kitchen. "Porthos, come. I need help peeling those potatoes."

"I just got through puttin' out that new feed of grain for the horses and need ta wash up at least," Porthos glared at his brother's back.

"Make it fast," Aramis hollered from the kitchen. "Or there won't be any for dinner."

"No rest for the wicked around 'ere I tell ya." Porthos stomped off, muttering to himself about a certain bossy Musketeer.

++++

After dinner Charles put out a plate of leftover beef for Alex. "Even though you were a bad kitty today you still need to eat." Stroking the kitten's head, Charles watched Alex's pink tongue dart out to lap up the food.

"Charles, I believe you should turn in for the night." Observing a small scowl now adorning his poppet's face, Athos braced himself for when his son turned it his way. When Charles did, Athos was prepared. "Aht!" he held up a finger. "You've had a long enough day without your usual nap in-between. Remember you will be having another on the morrow with Constance."

"Athos is correct, petit." Aramis bent down to drop a kiss on top of the garcon's head. "You'll have to be on your best behavior as well for you'll be going to the palace with her."

"Really?" Charles hadn't known that. "Will I see the king and queen?"

"Oui," Porthos picked the kid up and threw him over his shoulder, much to the delight of the whelp as he listened to Charles giggling. Heading to his son's room, he lightly patted the child's rear. "You'll not only see 'er but be spendin' some time with the king too."

As they both disappeared inside Charle's bedroom, Athos frowned while an amused Aramis looked on. "I prefer a more dignified exit."

Slapping his friend on the back, Aramis chuckled. "I'm sure you would, mon ami."

++++

_Next day, morning - Royal Palace, Queen Anne's rooms_

Having handed off Charles to Constance's care, the inseparables reported to the Garrison. So it was that the tyke found himself back at the palace in the queen's royal chambers. Sitting on the floor, Charles played with his set of wooden toys he was allowed to bring along so that he had something to occupy his time with. They were scattered all about him while he considered his battle strategy. Situating his toy soldiers in a row Charles brandished his wooden sword in the air, giving out orders to them.

Placing pins in the bodice of Queen Anne's elaborate gown she was creating, Constance smiled at the toddler. "Don't move yet, Your Majesty, or I might accidentally stick you with a pin instead of this dress."

Heeding her friend's gentle warning, Queen Anne did as told. "Constance I've told you time and again that when it is just you and I to please refer to me as simply Anne."

"Tis hard but I'll try," Constance smiled, continuing her alterations.

"I believe we have a budding captain in the making." Anne's eyes settled upon the petit Gascon still barking out orders to his own tiny regiment.

"Perhaps even a Marshal of France one day," Constance giggled at their flights of fancy.

"One never knows what the future may hold." Anne prayed one day that she and Louis would be blessed with a child like the one innocently playing near her.

"Alex!" Constance huffed, nearly tripping over the kitten as Charle's pet bounced all around her and Anne's feet.

"Oh let her be," Anne laughed. "She's enjoying herself."

"Enjoying causing trouble," Constance muttered, getting on with her work.

When someone rapped upon the door, Queen Anne called out, "Entrez!" A curly black head peered around the door frame as it slowly cracked open.

"Ah, ma chere," Louis grinned. "Is it safe to come in?"

"Of course or I wouldn't have said so," Anne waved him inside.

"Very nice indeed," Louis' keen eye for fashion approved the frothy creation Constance was working on. "You will be the belle at our next ball and outshine all the other envious women in attendance."

"I'll settle for not dying of sheer boredom," Anne whispered for only Constance to hear. Feeling her friend shaking with silent laughter from behind, Anne tried not to worry that Constance may forget herself and stick a pin into her.

"Mmmmmm," Louis hummed, "did you say something, Anne?"

"Nothing of great import." Seeing that her husband's attention was now caught on the youngster, Anne happily steered the coming conversation on fashion in another direction. "Why don't you teach Charles how to out maneuver the enemy?"

"Actually," Louis' eyes danced mischievously, "I've come to steal the garcon away from here."

"I thought you had to attend that council meeting that was set for today." Anne's eyes narrowed on that all to familiar look Louis now sported. "Oh non," she covered her mouth. "You're not?"

"I am." Louis laughed, striding over to kneel down beside where Charles was playing. "How would you like to come with me for a few hours?"

Taking his eyes briefly off his soldiers, Charles stared into the gleaming dark ones of the king. "My men need me," he pointed to the wooden toys all strategically placed where Charles stationed them.

"What if I need you more?" Louis pleaded, stifling a laugh at how serious Charles was about his war games.

Pondering his toys along with the king's question for a full minute, Charles came to a silent understanding with himself. "All right." While gathering his toys up, Charles spotted his kitten hiding underneath Constance's skirts. "May Alex come?"

"But of course," Louis threw the women a wicked look. Taking the petit garcon by the hand he left the room with Alex trailing behind them.

When the door closed, Anne exchanged a horrified look with Constance. "I fear a disaster in the making."

"We'll probably hear the council's outrage clear down here." Constance paused in pinning one sleeve just in the right place as it was giving her some difficulty.

"Cardinal Richelieu is supposed to be in attendance," Anne sighed. "Tis to be hoped he at least will keep a sensible head about him."

"I'm looking forward to hearing all about it so that I'll have a story to tell the boys later." Constance finally got that sleeve just the way she wanted it.

Knowing who those _boys_ were, Anne thought that perhaps they would be the least thrilled.

++++

_Council Chambers_

When the doors opened, the eight member council, including Cardinal Richelieu, all turned their heads in anticipation of King Louis' arrival. Not a word was at first uttered upon His Majesty's arrival with a petit child in tow. Actually they were overcome with confusion at the sight. When upon noting the kitten, Brulart couldn't contain himself.

"Setting up babysitting, Sire?" Brulart remarked sarcastically.

"If it pleases you to think so," King Louis countered. His eyes slid to the far left, just in time to catch Cardinal Richelieu's right eye twitching. Oh my! He knew what that twitch usually meant. Getting an earful about taking a toddler to a serious discussion of such import was not on his agenda for later. Still, somehow King Louis doubted he'd get out of it.

Seating himself, King Louis placed Charles on top of the table beside where he himself sat. "Faucheux, why don't you and de Sillery fill me in on how our finances stand," King Louis began drumming his fingers upon the table. "I'm sure de La Vieuville is simply dying to tell me how the collection of our taxes is _not_ going."

"Are you sure we should be discussing things of a delicate nature in front of that child?" de San Veterre huffed, clearly annoyed.

This time it was Richelieu who stepped in to answer the question. "That _child_ has a name," he glared down de San Veterre. "Tis _Charles_ ," Richelieu snapped. "Remember it!"

Not totally surprised at His Eminence reaction, King Louis sent him a pleased smile. "Nicely done, Cardinal." A grunt from Richelieu was all he received in turn.

As the meeting carried on, King Louis focused his concentration on the tyke's toy soldiers. His council no doubt thought he wasn't listening to them but King Louis heard everything said. When Charles began moving more of his own soldiers around, King Louis tried to teach Charles the correct way to lead a command. So this set the tone for the rest of the meeting as the two of them had their heads bent close together, talking quietly.

"I say, Sire!" Romilly piped up. "Have you heard a word I've said?"

Not lifting his head, King Louis placed one of the soldiers on the table beside another. "You haven't said anything I haven't already heard before." You old blowhard he privately thought.

"Who is winning?" Richelieu spoke from the side of his mouth to the young monarch.

"Charle's men," King Louis' eyes alighted with glee. "But only for the moment," he clapped his hands together.

"This is utterly beyond the pale!" Voclain cried out, to nods of agreement from the other members.

"His Majesty's turned our chamber into a playroom," Tailler added in angry protest.

Waving his hand in the air, King Louis signaled for them to continue with the business at hand. "Don't mind us, gentlemen. Do go on with what you were discussing."

"They don't make much sense," Charles whispered in the king's ear.

"I agree completely," King Louis chuckled upon hearing Richelieu moaning. "They never do."

When Alex herself got bored she trotted up and down the length of the rectangular, cherry oak table. It was of considerable length, given the fact eleven men sat around it. Every now and then she paused to look down at her reflection in the polished veneer wood.

"This is a farce!" Romilly exclaimed when Alex stopped in front of him to hiss in his face.

"I do not think we're accomplishing anything today," Villeneuve declared. "I suggest we dismiss and re-schedule for a more convenient time." He eyed the youngster and kitten with disdain. "Sans the garcon and his pet of course."

"Fine," King Louis mumbled while continuing to maneuver his wooden soldiers for a strategic strike against Charle's company. "I wasn't in the mood for this one from the beginning."

Leaning over, Richelieu quietly murmured, "They already gathered that, Sire."

One by one the members departed, all but ignoring the curious looks given them from the toddler. Brulart and de San Veterre were the last ones to leave. Pausing by the young monarch's side, they were about to admonish the king once more for bringing the toddler along. When the kitten suddenly began hissing at them, arching its back, showing its displeasure with them they couldn't leave fast enough.

"I must remember to borrow Alex when that bothersome de Malicorne comes calling next week," Richelieu told the king, humor lacing his voice. When Charles glanced at him, smiling, Richelieu could only return the gesture. "We're not going to hear the end of this I'm afraid, Your Majesty."

"Ah, but I live for repercussions," King Louis grinned. "Don't you know that by now, Cardinal?"

"I suppose we're tough enough to weather the storm, so to speak," Richelieu reached out to stroke Alex's back when the kitten snuggled into his arms. Eyeing the way Charle's soldiers were placed against Louis', Richelieu couldn't help but point out a weakness in the lad's strategy.

Listening to his cardinal telling the toddler what was wrong, King Louis huffed. "Stop fraternizing with the enemy, Cardinal!" When Charles began giggling, both he and Richelieu gave free reign to their own amusement which echoed loudly in the near empty chamber.

++++

_Notes:_

I tried to look up the real life King Louis' members of council during his reign and only came up with a few names. So when I referred to them in my story these men had existed - de Sillery, Brulart, de La Vieuville and de San Veterre. The other members mentioned were not really there.

Also if you were really paying attention you'll see I slipped in a few remarks from the original novel pertaining to d'Art's future.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles still features in this chapter but I've added a bit of danger for our Musketeers too for Fanny.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, very late in the afternoon - Constance's home_

"The king actually took Charles to that meeting?" Athos' head hung so low it nearly touched his chest. He couldn't believe that His Majesty actually followed through with what he had touched upon earlier.

"Those men didn't like me." Nestled comfortably in his papa Porth' arms, Charles appeared like an innocent petit lamb that could do no wrong. "Didn't like Alex either." He gazed down upon his kitten, curled up on the floor, near his bigger papa’s feet.

"Guess that highfalutin council 'ad their noses bent out of shape." Porthos continued to cuddle his son, shooting Aramis and Athos a smug look. "'Bout time someone shook 'em up."

"Oui." Aramis' fingers brushed easily through his hair. "But why did it have to be our son?"

"Don't worry, boys." Constance served up wine to each of them. "From what I understood, the king and Cardinal Richelieu happily played with Charles and his toy soldiers while the chamber emptied." She saw that Porthos was the only one that looked pleased about it. "Since it didn't bother them it shouldn't concern any of you either."

"Water under the bridge now." Walking over to Porthos' side, Athos took the toddler in his arms. "Ah, petit, why do I have a feeling that no matter how old you become controversy and mayhem will dog your footsteps." Knowing Charles hadn't understood a word of that, Athos bent his head to place a kiss upon the garcon's cheek.

"And 'ave us spendin' our good ole time gettin' the whelp out of the fixes Charles will surely find 'imself in." Finishing a drink he had started, Porthos nodded his thanks to Constance. Signaling his brothers that it was time to leave, he started for the door.

"And why not?" Constance rounded on them all before they left. "With you lot as such fine examples of how men should act.” Hands on hips, she tapped her left foot in a rapid tattoo. “How could Charles learn otherwise?"

"I believe we should now depart before Constance really tells us how she feels." Athos' blue eyes twinkled observing the pert, red headed miss fling her long braid over her shoulder.

"Our thanks for watching the petit today." Arams doffed his chapeau to her.

"My pleasure," she grinned. "But don't forget I had some help from His Majesty and even His Eminence.”

Tightly closing his eyes, Athos did not want to be reminded of the havoc their young monarch's decision had caused. He was sure it would be fodder for the palace gossip mongers for weeks to come. If not longer.

"Come, Alex." Charles watched his kitten bounce out the door after Porthos.

Seeing the youngster being helped up onto Zad, Constance bit her lip. "Charles, take care riding!" she called out. "Don't do anything foolish like your papas would!"

"Don't she sound just like a mother would?" Porthos snorted, listening to his friends grumble their agreement.

"A mother bear that would slap you silly if you dared to hurt her child." Tipping his hat low over his eyes Aramis gently kicked Belle in the sides. Making sure he stuck close to Charles, who was flanked by Athos, Porthos covered the rear.

"Yeah," Porthos had a huge grin on his face. "We all know how ya loved ta be slapped." Aramis may very well ignore his words but he knew what his brother enjoyed. If one could call being _slapped_ something to look forward too. It certainly rated low on Porthos' list of favorite things.

"Why do you like being slapped, papa MIs?" Charles had listened in to the conversation but didn't understand why papa Mis would like someone hitting him.

Huffing, Aramis threw Porthos a dirty look. "Now see what you've done."

"Try an get outta that one." Laughing near to burst his gut, Porthos rode past his brother to take up the lead.

++++

_The inseparable's home_

After dinner, Porthos and Aramis played a hand of cards. In the meantime, Athos entertained their son by reading to the tot from his favorite chair near the fireplace.

All too soon it was Charle's bedtime and it was Porthos turn to tuck the imp in. "'Ad a big day taday, pipsqueak." He made sure the whelp was snug under the covers. When he was finished amusement filled Porthos when all he could see were a pair of chocolate brown eyes peeking out at him.

Jumping upon the bed Alex gave what sounded like a contented sigh and curled up by Charle's feet, closing her curious eyes.

Shaking his head at the sight before Porthos closed the door, he took a last look at the pair. Knowing that those two made quite an impression at the palace today, Porthos wished he could have been there to see it.

When Porthos went back to the main room it was to encounter his brother's pensive faces. "I wasn't gone all that long. What could 'ave 'appened?"

Waving a note in the air, Athos handed it over to his brother to read.

"We received that while you were with Charles." Aramis couldn't say how he felt right now.

"Treville needs us for a mission." Athos wasn't pleased in the least.

"Tomorrow?" Porthos glanced between his best friends seeing twin nods of agreement. "If'n we'd 'ave known earlier we could 'ave just left the runt with Constance instead of draggin' the kid back 'ere."

"Be that as it may," Athos drawled. "We are being sent to Amiens to escort one Comte de la Fontaine back to Paris to meet with the king." Worry etched harsh lines in Athos' face. The concern wasn’t for themselves though. It was the idea of leaving Charles for, what amounted to, an entire week.

Reading his comrade's expression correctly, Aramis pursed his lips. "You do realize that this situation would have occurred sooner or later, Athos."

Snapping his head around, Athos' unsettled gaze landed on the marksman. "I would have preferred _later._.. much, much later."

"The kid 'ill be okay." Porthos tried to ease the tension he saw building up in the older man. "Whelp loves Constance."

"But we are the pup's anchor." Athos went to retrieve a bottle of brandy out of their liquor cabinet. He badly felt in need of a stiff drink. "Have been since we brought him to Paris."

Looking past Athos, Porthos caught a wince cross Aramis' handsome features. "Yeah we 'ave. But I bet Charles will be havin' a ball while we're gone and not give us a second thought."

"I hope you are correct, mon ami." Athos filled his glass to the brim. "Here's to what I hope will turn out to be a most boring escort assignment."

++++

_Next morning_

"I'm going to Constance's again?" Watching his papa Mis throw a bunch of Charle's clothes on the bed, he wasn't sure if his papa paid him any attention.

"Oui." Rummaging through the drawers, Aramis wondered if he were taking too many things out. Noting the lad's toys in the corner, he would have to add those as well. "We are to go on a mission for King Louis and will be gone at least a week." If nothing goes wrong crossed his mind. "And since Constance doesn't have a barn or stable to house Zad your poney will remain here." Seeing the sour look Charles gave him at that piece of news, Aramis continued packing.

"Who will take care of him?"

"Our neighbor Jubert will, petit." Kissing the tip of the garcon's nose, Aramis smiled. "See! Everything has been taken care of."

"Promise all of you will come back?" Sucking his thumb, Charles sat cross-legged on his bed.

Noting such a serious expression on the petit face, Aramis' heart hurt just looking at the pup. "Mon coeur," he cooed, sitting down beside his son. "We have every intention of doing that."

Poking his head past the door, Porthos glared at the pair. "Get shakin' you two or Captain Treville will want to know why we're late."

"I'm trying to reassure our son," Aramis explained. "Charles is worried something will happen to us." Hugging the youngster to his side, Aramis laid his cheek on top of the garcon's head.

"Takes a lot ta 'urt a Musketeer, runt." When the whelp held out his arms to him, Porthos picked the tot up. Planting a kiss on Charle's forehead he felt the kid wrap his legs around his waist, arms clinging to his neck. "I ain't plannin' on anythin' keepin' me from comin' 'ome ta ya."

"Okay." Knowing his papas have never lied to him, in his innocence Charles believed every word. When papa Porth put him back down, Charles followed him out into the main room.

Observing the three of them come from the poppet's bedroom, Athos had to wonder what had transpired between them. Both his brothers wore such serious expressions that it began to concern him. There was a certain tenseness to Charle's face that normally wasn't there either. Catching Aramis' eye, Athos indicated with a tilt of his head toward the petit, he wanted to know what was wrong.

Breaking away, Aramis went over to his older friend. "Charles is worried we won't be coming back."

"Tis more or less what I feared would happen." Athos spoke softly not wanting their son to hear him.

"Porthos set the pup to rights." Aramis laughed, enjoying the sight of Charles now riding piggy back on his big brother's broad shoulders.

Patiently waiting for Porthos to put the child down, Athos went to kneel in front of the petit garcon. Cupping Charle's face in both hands Athos placed a kiss on each of the toddler's cheeks. "I want you to leave your worries behind you and enjoy your time with Constance while we are away."

"I'll miss you, papa Thos!" Charles sniffled into his papa's neck. "A lot!"

Taking the tot's chin in his hand Athos gently shook it. "We'll miss you _a lot_ as well, mon ange." Taking his son's hand Athos led Charles outside to where their horses waited. Lifting the pup on top of Roger he patted the child's leg. "But we are king's Musketeers and must go where ordered." Seeing a pout beginning to form on the petit's face, Athos tapped the garcon's leg once more. "You must stay brave while we are gone."

"I'll try, papa Thos."

"Then let us be off and we'll see you quickly settled with Constance before we must leave for Amiens." Tugging on his leather gloves Athos then mounted up behind Charles.

"Wait!" Charles shouted. "Alex! We can't leave her behind!" He didn't understand why no one answered his plea. Seeing his papa Miss flip open the flap of his saddlebag, Charles then understood why. Seeing the petite head of his kitten instantly pop out, he relaxed.  Settling back against papa Thos, Charles tilted his head back to stare into the blue eyes. "I couldn't leave without her."

"Nor would we leave Alex behind to fend for herself." Knowing how much the tiny creature meant to the garcon, Athos smiled to himself. Heaven forbid if they ever left the fluffball behind. Hearing said _fluffball_ mewling, Athos grimaced.

"That kitten sure can yammer," Porthos grunted.

"Mon frere," Aramis laughed happily. "You'd mewl to at the unplesantness of traveling in such a manner."

"Oh for the love of..." Athos didn't bother finishing, just waved everyone to be on their way.

++++

_Three days later - Amiens_

Having met the comte at his chateau, the inseparables surrounded de la Fontaine’s carriage in preparation for their journey back to Paris. Riding up beside the driver, Athos signaled him they were ready to set out.

++++

Second day into their travels, the attack came out of seemingly nowhere.

From every direction the malandrins targeted the carriage and its occupant. Keeping the comte safe was of the highest priority for the Musketeers.

“I think the captin’ left out somethin’ important about de la Fontaine.” Swinging his sword at a malandrin that passed a little too close for comfort, Porthos’ eyes locked onto Athos’.

“Something I will surely bring up when I next see Treville.” Dodging a stray musketball Athos tried to keep several malandrins away from the carriage.

Managing to shoot three of their attackers off their horses, Aramis watched the dead bodies fall hard to the ground. Making Belle come to a full halt he jumped down from her to engage two more on foot.

Following his brother’s example, Porthos too was on foot. Fighting his way through four others he managed to take the first two malandrins down with his sword. The remaining ones met their demise at the end of Porthos’ poignard.

Three malandrins circled Athos, who had dismounted Roger some time ago. It was a shame they had no idea who they were dealing with. In swift order Athos’ blade cut them to the quick.

Feeling that any members of the gang left alive had fled by now, they let their guard down. Of course it was then that catastrophe struck.

" _PORTHOS!_ " Athos bellowed. " _IN BACK OF YOU!_ "

Whirling around at his comrade's warning, Porthos was in time to parry the blow that would have surely killed him. But in doing so he had left his back vulnerable to another malandrin. Feeling the hot slice of a blade entering his left side, Porthos staggered falling to his knees as pain overwhelmed him.

Shots flew past Porthos' body when Aramis used his harquebus to put an end to his brother's attackers. So focused on saving his friend, he didn't see his own enemy until it was too late. Crying out, when a musket ball entered his right shoulder, Aramis' grip slipped on his weapon letting it clatter to the ground. Observing Athos take on the malandrin for him, Aramis wished he could check his own injury.

Breathing harshly, Athos wasn't satisfied until his sword entered his opponent's chest. Watching the malandrin slump to the ground he kicked the man in the side for good measure. Turning around to see what further aid he could lend, Athos failed to note that his enemy still had some life left in him. It wasn't until he felt a deep cut penetrate into his right leg that Athos realized, too late, his mistake. When his leg gave out on him, he fell to the ground. Somehow Athos managed to twist around at the same time to fire off his pistol into his downed attacker. Dragging himself over to where the marksman sat, leaning against a boulder, it felt like forever until Athos reached his friend. "How bad are you hurt, Aramis?"

"You tell me." Aramis tried to breathe through his pain. "Is the ball still in my shoulder? I can't tell."

Sitting up was more than painful for Athos but he needed to check the injury. Making Aramis lean forward, he could see the exit wound better. "Tis through and through."

"Thank God for that at least." Aramis swallowed hard. "Go check on Porthos."

"I do not think I can bring myself to move again," Athos admitted. Looking at his sluggishly bleeding leg, he wondered if he should try and take care of it on his own since Aramis was just as badly wounded.

Seeing Athos suffering in pain, Aramis began to worry. "Porthos!" he shouted. "What of your injury, mon frere?"

"I feel like one of Gagnon's gutted fish that 'e sells at market!" Porthos yelled back. "Got cut in my side!"

In their shared pain and misery, the inseparables nearly forgot what brought them to this point... maintaining the comte's safety. When they discovered the gentleman in question had strayed from the confines of his carriage, the inseparables all struggled to gain their feet to protect the foolish man.

"Stay put all of you!" de la Fontaine ordered like a man used to being obeyed and obeyed quickly. "My coachman suffered a graze on the side of his head and is resting." His eyes touched upon each Musketeer's wounds. "None of you are fit to move." He knelt down beside Aramis and Athos to examine them. Then going over to Porthos, de la Fontaine checked over the cut to the soldier's side. "Where are your medical supplies?" He directed the question to Aramis.

"You'll find everything you need in my saddlebags," offered Aramis.

"In my day, during my service to King Henry IV, I was something of a medic," de la Fontaine admitted. Catching the relief he noted on all the Musketeers faces, he smirked.

"God has not forsaken us." Crossing himself, Aramis gave the comte a nod of approval.

"When I have patched you up the best I can all of you will ride in my carriage back to Paris." De la Fontaine went over to Aramis' horse to retrieve the supplies he needed.

"We nearly made liars out of ourselves to Charles." Leaning his head back against a tree, Athos closed his eyes. Thoughts of his son filled him and what the petit would think when they all came back to him like this. 

"When we return in this condition the kid's not gonna wanna let us out of 'is sight anytime soon." Porthos felt blood still dripping down his doublet. "Merde! These were my good leathers too!"

"My thoughts exactly," Athos said. "Not about your clothes but about Charle's reaction when he sees us." Hearing Aramis laughing or trying too, he stared oddly at the marksman. There was nothing the least amusing about their situation.

"We're all lying here injured." Aramis' mirth caused him nothing but pain, jarring his shoulder, so he settled for shaking a finger at Porthos. "And yet you're worried about your blasted uniform."

"They were my best leathers, Mis, and ya know how 'ard it is ta get blood out of 'em."

Rolling his eyes at the larger man Aramis observed the comte striding back toward them.

When de la Fontaine returned with the medical supplies, he placed everything he needed on the ground. "Now which one of you wants to be first?"


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maryg wants to see Charles have Christmas with his papas. Since I haven't been mentioning what seasons we are in lately, we'll assume they've been having warmer than usual fall months of Oct./Nov. Pretty much as we have had where I live this year. So now we're into December, for the story, this way we can move onto Christmas that much faster.  
> Hope no one gets confused.
> 
> ++++

_Eleven days later - Constance's home_

"But where are they?" Charles whined. He had been waiting for oh so long by the Garrison gates for the past three days. Even Alex was mewling her sadness for his sake as well. Since Constance had business with Queen Anne, Charles had been allowed to stay with Captain Treville and hang around the Garrison so he could keep an eye out for his papas. So it was that Charles would always find himself accompanied by an off-duty Musketeer when waiting by the gate's entrance.

She knew something must have happened to her friends. They were due back over four and a half days ago. Praying as hard as she could, Constance willed them to come riding into Paris soon to put Charle's mind at ease.

It had been a calm December so far with only a few flakes of snow, floating through the air, to show they even had a change of season. Winter winds were only slightly chilly, for now that is. But Constance knew how harsh a Paris winter could turn out to be, it wasn't a welcome thought.

Worrying that the boys could get caught up in a sudden winter storm is what kept her visiting Captain Treville regularly. Pestering the poor man to send out a search party for the inseparables, Constance knew she was trying the officer's patience.

"Come, Charles." She held out her hand to the petit garcon. "Let's play with some of your toys." The child had been off his food ever since his papas were overdue. Perhaps after some fun time she could cajole the toddler into eating something more than he had been.

++++

_Garrison courtyard_

When Comte de la Fontaine's carriage entered the Garrison, Rene was the first to spot it and immediately dashed up the steps to report to the captain.

"Mon Dieu! Tis about time!" Grabbing his chapeau he had thrown carelessly on a chair Treville raced out of his office, hot on the heels of Rene. When he hit the bottom step he instantly noted that neither Aramis, Porthos or Athos were on their mounts guarding the carriage, as would have been their normal routine. Gazing upon the inseparable's horses tethered to the back of the carriage, his heart began to pound in earnest. Rushing over he was just in time to see the comte jump down and open the door.

Before he was able to help the injured Musketeers out, de la Fontaine had seen his old friend's approach. It was good to finally see him again, as a few years had past since they had last seen each other.

"What the deuce took so long for you to get here, Marcel?" Jean-Armand demanded, as if the other man were one of his Musketeers being derelict in his duty.

"Would you believe a slight mishap on the road?" Marcel was amused upon hearing a grumpy voice from within his carriage. "What was that, Porthos?"

"Weren't nothin' _slight_ about it," Porthos bitterly complained.

"I would say that was an understatement," came the dry retort uttered by a weary Athos.

"It certainly broke up the monotony of what our days would have been like," Aramis glibly added.

Hearing his men's voices, but as yet not laying eyes upon them, Treville quirked a brow at his friend. Seeing Marcel's lips curl upward, he would swear the man was on the verge of laughter. "Perhaps my Musketeers could show themselves." Saying it loud enough, Treville hoped that would prod his men out of the carriage.

"Er, Jean-Armand," pulling his friend off to one side, Marcel turned serious. "Your soldiers were all injured when we were set upon by a gang of malandrins on our second day out."

"What about yourself, mon ami?" His eyes roamed over Marcel's body but Jean-Armand didn't note any obvious injuries.

"I never came to harm." Pointing to his coachman's bandaged head, Marcel's mouth tightened. "Jacque's sustained a graze only." Holding open the carriage door, he pointed to the Musketeers within ticking off their wounds. "Athos suffered a deep cut to his right leg. The injury to Porthos was to his upper left side, while a musketball went straight through your marksman's right shoulder.

"Mon Dieu!" Poking his head inside the carriage, Treville noted several miserable faces staring back at him. "Rest easy, gents. I'll summon others to help you out."

"Our thanks, Captain." Wincing, Athos tried to straighten out his wounded leg.

"'Aven't ya figured out by now that ain't a good idea?" Rolling his eyes, Porthos was tired of seeing his brother do that off and on during their entire journey back home. Getting a familiar glower in return, he knew when to shut his mouth.

"Quit pulling the tiger's tail, mon frere," Aramis murmured quietly. "You'll live a much healthier life that way."

Having heard the exchange, Treville couldn't help the smile that touched his lips. His Musketeer's spirits still appeared in tact which counted for quite a lot in his book. Noting that the inseparables had been patched up, in one form or another, Treville assumed it was Marcel who tended to their injuries. "Any problem with their wounds?"

"I was worried about fever setting in and so saw fit to make several stops along the way," Marcel replied. "Tis why we're behind schedule." Leaning against the carriage he took in the sights and sounds of Musketeers milling about or practicing in the courtyard. "There are several fine inns along the roads to Paris where we stopped," Marcel added. "I believe I shall include them in my travels from now on." Hearing groaning coming from within his carriage, he arched a brow at Jean-Armand. "They suffer only some mild discomfort from time to time. Mainly due in part to Aramis' miracle pain draughts which he told me how to mix."

Knowing first-hand how effective and foul tasting those draughts actually were, Treville shuddered. It turned out he didn't have to fetch any help for his men after all. Several Musketeers had gathered around the carriage, realizing something was amiss. Enlisting them, Treville observed how careful they were in helping the inseparables out. Glancing at Marcel he had to ask something else that was bothering him. "Did you tell them why you were attacked in the first place?"

"Non," Marcel carelessly shrugged. "I left that up to you."

"Good," Jean-Armand nodded. "Something I will do later. For now my other concern is how Charles is going to receive the news." His worried eyes touched upon each of his injured men, knowing there were going to be repercussions in the offing.

"Charles?" Having not heard that name mentioned during the journey here, Marcel was curious.

"He is their son." Seeing surprise register on his old friend's face, Jean-Armand smiled slightly.

"Really?" his brows rose. "All three?"

"Oui," Jean-Armand grinned. "They adopted the garcon shortly after the tot's pere was murdered."

"How old is this child?"

"Three going on twenty sometimes." Both men's laughter had other Musketeers turning their heads to stare at them curiously. Leading the way back to his office Jean-Armand and Marcel caught up on old times.

++++

_Infirmary_

Yelping when Doctor Devereaux prodded his injury, Aramis batted the physician's hands away.

"You're nothing but an overgrown bébé, Aramis," Devereaux tisked. "And you a medic yourself." He walked away shaking his head.

"Tis one thing to aid his brothers," Athos took in the pain that etched Aramis' face, "and another to be on the receiving end." Hearing the marksman grunt in agreement, Athos almost smiled.

"Comte de la Fontaine did a good job on all of you from what I can see so far." Looking over Athos' injury, Devereaux saw it was healing well.

"Now, Porthos, turn onto your right side so I can better examine your wound." The large Musketeer grumbled but did as asked. Removing the bandages he noted that it was slightly inflamed still but aside from that Devereaux was satisfied. He went to put some salve on it, having acquired it from a woman who used to live in Gascony. Devereaux had been most pleased with its miraculous healing properties. After applying it to Porthos' skin, he put fresh bandages on the wound.

"When can we go to our home?" Sitting up, with his back resting against the bed's headboard, Athos worried over Charles. It was ridiculous in a way since the lad was with Constance, but he feared his son would have been frightened when Charles realized they were late in returning.

"How _soon_?" Dumbfounded, Devereaux stared at Athos like the Musketeer had just spoken to him in Spanish. "All three of you just landed on my doorstep incapacitated." He folded his arms, glaring at the lieutenant. "What do you think your odds are?" He shot a look at the largest of his patients. "Or perhaps that last question is best asked of Porthos."

"Nice try, Athos, but stupid." Porthos grumbled, throwing Aramis a foul look when his brother snickered.

They were so preoccupied with their own thoughts, while listening to the doctor drone on about them staying in the infirmary, that none of them heard the infirmary door open and close. It wasn't until a petit blur of motion threw himself first at Athos that they noticed Constance's silent presence standing near Devereaux.

The toddler had latched onto Athos like a lifeline. Holding the shaking body tightly, he winced when Charles' foot connected with Athos' injury. Not being able to stifle his cry of pain, he noted how it startled his son.

Swiping at his watery eyes Charles patted the side of his papa Thos' face tenderly. "They said you were hurt," his lips trembled. "You're not going to die like my papa did are you?" He swiveled his head around to look at his other bed bound papas. "I don't want any of you to leave me!" Before Athos could respond the tot scrambled off his bed and onto Porthos' next. "Mon ange, we are simply injured," he called out.

"Yeah, pipsqueak." Tweaking his son's red nose, Porthos grinned. "Nothin' ta blubber about." Seeing the whelp trying to stop the well of tears that threatened to fall all over again he tucked the petit's head under his chin, rubbing the child's back soothingly. Seeing Aramis frowning at them, Porthos whispered into the kid's ear. It didn't take long for the tyke to climb off him.

Thumb secured in his mouth again, Charles slowly walked toward his papa Mis. "Papa Porth said to be careful of your shoulder."

Patting the left side of his bed, Aramis waited for his son to join him. Curling his good arm around Charle's shoulder, he hugged the garcon close. "I missed you, mon coeur." Dropping a kiss on top of the poppet's head Aramis pointed to each of his brothers. "We all have." Noting Athos' dour features, Aramis realized what caused it. "Petit, you forgot to kiss Athos in welcome."

Jumping off the bed, Charles was back over to papa Thos in a flash. Reaching out he tugged until his papa leaned down far enough that Charles could kiss papa Thos' cheek. "Sorry. I was just so happy to see you I forgot."

Clearing her throat, Constance had watched the reunion with mixed emotions. Happy they were all together once more but on the other hand how was the toddler going to react when these men had to leave again. And leave they would as that was the job of a Musketeer to go where ordered. "I've missed you three rogues as well."

"What?" Aramis flashed her one of his more amourous looks. "No kiss for us?"

"You wish," she scoffed. Earning chuckles from the marksman's brothers and even the doctor to boot.

"A woman that knows 'er own mind." Still laughing, Porthos enjoyed the fact that this was one lady that wouldn't put up with Aramis' nonsense. He also got a kick out of seeing that his friend appeared stunned and didn't understand how his charms failed. "Good on ya, Missy." He winked grinning when she reciprocated.

"I would add something to that," Athos hid his smile behind his hand, pretending instead to cough. "But actions do speak louder than words in this case."

"I am very glad you boys are back." Taking in how each of their injuries were bandaged, Constance sighed thinking that it could have been so much worse. "More than I can say." Her eyes landed on Charles who was still near Athos' bedside. Wanting to steer the conversation away from their obvious wounds, Constance brought up a different subject. Something she had talked over with these men before they had left on assignment. "How we're going to get a Christmas tree in your house now remains to be seen." Tapping her chin, Constance thought upon who she could get to help with that problem.

"Oy!" Exchanging concerned looks with the others, Porthos shook his head. "Constance has the right of it." He remembered, before departing to pick up the comte, her whispering to him about it.

"None of us are going to be of much use." Of all times to have gotten hurt on the job. His gaze falling on his son, Athos would not see Charles suffer missing out on the upcoming festivities simply because of their poor lapse of judgment while doing their duty.

Snapping her fingers, Constance had all eyes on her. "I've got an idea." Looking over at Charles she felt he would be all right for the moment if she left for a little while. "I just need to talk to Their Majestys about it."

Completely taken by surprise at her announcement, the last thing the Musketeers saw were a swirl of skirts flying past them as Constance practically raced out the door.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boy I didn't think I was going to get this chapter up this week. What with work, shoveling heavy snow at home after working late, trying to get things done for Xmas, etc. And now we're dealing with frigid temps and a possible snow/sleet or freezing rain and then just plain rain event to hit us Sat. morning. And of course yours truly has to go to work that day. I've been so tired that it's been hard to get my brain working on this. The way this is going the actual Xmas story may take place after Xmas. LOL! But I don't think anyone will mind.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, just after Constance left the Musketeers in the infirmary_

_Royal Palace – Queen Anne’s chambers_

“So you see Your…” biting her lip Constance trailed off when the queen rolled her eyes. “Sorry,” she bowed her head. “I meant to call you Anne.”

“No harm done, Constance,” she waved her hand. “Do go on. You were saying?”

“Since the inseparables are all injured I realized the idea of them bringing a Christmas tree into their home is going to be out of the question.” Walking around the room, Constance thought her plan out loud. When she stopped right in front of Anne she took the other woman’s hands into her own. “Instead of having those three worry about the tree and all the trimmings would it be possible for Charles to have his first Christmas in Paris here at the Louvre?” Before Anne could answer, Constance rushed on. “I mean I’m sure other Musketeers wouldn’t mind volunteering to help the boys out. But if I know them,” she arched a pretty eyebrow, “and I do,” Constance added with a smile. “Porthos, Athos and Aramis would try to do things on their own and no doubt worsen their wounds in the process.”

Clapping her hands in delight, Anne squeezed the younger woman’s hands. “Tis a delightful idea, Constance! I love it! I’m sure Louis will too as you know how we both love Charles,” she laughed. “Alex can come too of course. Though we may have to keep a sharp eye on her or else we’ll end up finding the petite kitten decorating the top of our Christmas tree.” Both women laughed at the image that presented in their minds.

“I’ve got to get back to the infirmary,” Constance said. “I left Charles there to visit longer while I came over here.”

“Of course,” Anne nodded. “I can’t wait to tell Louis your idea.” She walked Constance to the door. “Come back as soon as you are able so we can start making decisions.”

Overcome with emotion that her suggestion was received so graciously, impulsively Constance hugged Anne. Holding a hand over her mouth, she blushed. “Apologies.” Tinkling laughter filled the air, as Anne’s gentle look filled Constance with warmth.

“You’re quite forgiven. Now hurry and retrieve Charles before he worries you have forgotten him"

"I doubt I've been missed," Constance grinned. "He'll be too involved checking over the injuries my friends sustained to notice how long I've been gone." She walked to the door. "I'll try not to be too long."

Closing the door behind the young woman, Anne already had some ideas forming in her head.

++++

_Infirmary_

When Constance reappeared, the inseparables all looked at her curiously. She appeared pleased with herself and they wondered if perhaps they should be concerned.

Speaking up first was Athos, who had a contented Charles snuggled into his side. “You look like the cat who ate the proverbial canary,” he arched a brow. “Tis to be hoped the canary escaped.” When his son giggled, Athos dropped a kiss on the garcon’s forehead. He doubted the lad understood his meaning but it was delightful to hear the childish amusement. It was the first sounds of happiness Charles had uttered since coming into the infirmary filled with apprehension.

“You boys are going to be laid up for awhile.” She perched on the end of Athos’ bed. “I know this will be Charle’s first Christmas with all of you.” Smiling at the sweet picture the toddler presented with his head resting on Athos’ chest, Constance eyes sparkled thinking upon her news. “None of you have to worry about trying to decorate or even get a Christmas tree because now I’ve spoken with Queen Anne about it all.”

Sitting up straighter in his bed, Aramis thought at first he had misheard her. “What does the queen have to do with any of this?”

“My idea was to see if Charles could celebrate the Christmas festivities at the palace.” Hands folded neatly in her lap, Constance bit her lip. Her eyes touched upon each Musketeer. She had thought her idea a sound one, but the deafening silence that greeted her announcement didn’t bode well.

“What did Her Majesty say ta that?” Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Knowing the kid liked the royal couple, Porthos felt this could work out. You didn’t have to have a brain to see that Their Majestys loved the whelp in turn. So he doubted it would be a hardship for them to include the pup in the coming celebrations.

“She simply loves the idea and knows that the king would as well.” Eyes locking with Athos, Constance noted the he had remained awfully quiet so far. “Well, Athos?”

“As much as I would have enjoyed Christmas in our new home,” Athos glanced down at Charles whose eyelids were beginning to droop, “I believe tis for the best.” He nodded his approval at Constance noting her relieved smile. Knowing that his prior silence upon the matter had disturbed her, he gave the young woman a lopsided grin. “Apologies if I made you nervous.”

Waving her hand in the air, Constance rolled her eyes. “I should be used to your ways by now, Athos.” It looked like Charles finally lost his battle with Morpheus. Her lips twitched observing Athos trying his best to stretch his injured leg out without waking the petit up.

“Someone needs a nap.” Watching their precious son fall asleep, Aramis wished they were all back in the comfort of their home. If they had been, he would have been singing a lullaby to the tyke and Charles would have fallen asleep in Aramis’ arms just like he had done now with his brother.

“I believe all the drama of waiting for you three to return has finally caught up with him.” When Constance saw Charles like that, she wished for a child of her own. But first she had to catch a husband.

“Drama?” Not liking the sound of that, Porthos frowned.

“When you were overdue he would wait for days by the Garrison gates for your arrival.” Starting to feel uncomfortable, perhaps she should have remained quiet on the subject.

“Oy!” Shaking his head, Porthos glanced at his son. “Poor kid.”

“He was not by himself was he?” Knowing Constance would have never left the petit garcon alone, Athos needed to know who his child had waited with.

Guessing at the question that was on the tip of Athos’ tongue, Constance beat him to it. “There was always another Musketeer around who volunteered to stay with Charles.” Knowing her words had put Athos’ mind to rest she impishly grinned. “The entire regiment was worried when you three were overdue. Since our youngest is quite the favorite around here the men were happy to do it.”

“We have a fine regiment.” Aramis shared nods of agreement with his brothers.

Getting to her feet Constance hated having to wake the child up but the queen expected them back. “I’m needed back at the palace as Her Majesty wants to start making decisions on our holiday preparations.”

Fingers tenderly carding through the tyke’s hair, Athos whispered in Charle’s ear. “Mon ange.” When that didn’t do the trick, he gently shook the lad’s shoulder. “Time for you to go with Constance. You don’t want to keep the queen waiting, eh?”

A pair of sleepy, brown eyes blinked open to focus on his papa Thos. Knuckling the sleep from his eyes, Charles pouted. “Want to stay here with all of you.”

“But, mon Coeur,” Aramis’ dark eyes lovingly roamed over his son’s sweet face, “tis obvious you need your nap.”

“Didn’t mean to sleep.” Yawning, Charles uncurled his body from papa Thos.

“Ya needed it, kid,” Porthos grunted.

“You can take a nice long rest while Queen Anne and I are occupied.” Holding out her hand Constance waited for the poppet to take it.

“How long are you going to be here?” With a woebegotten face Charles stared at his papas while making a meal of his thumb.

“Doc’s gonna release us in a couple a days, kid.” 

“Doctor Devereaux wants to make sure our injuries are coming along well enough before we are allowed to go home.” The serious expression that graced his petit's face had Athos' blue eyes crinkling up in the corners as a smile bloomed.

"Now off with ya, whelp," Porthos said gruffly. "Can't keep the queen waitin' It just ain't done."

Running to each of his papas, Charles climbed onto the beds kissing each of them on the cheek. Then when finished he took the hand Constance was still holding out to him. "Au revoir, papas," Charles waved goodbye.

"We will see you soon, mon ange," Athos waved back.

"Be good for Constance, mon bébé." Blowing a kiss at his son, Aramis shared a smile with Constance.

"Yeah, runt," Pothos winked, "be on your best behavior for us."

After the two departed, the inseparables exchanged the same look. That of caged animals in a pen. They hadn't been in the infirmary even an entire day and yet they couldn't wait to be discharged from it.

"At least we already have Charle's presents taken care of. Tis one less worry." Noting his brother's face fall, Athos gazed at Aramis most curiously.

"I haven't finished," Aramis muttered, not looking at his older brother as if he had done something which he shouldn't have.

"Didn't I tell ya ta stop chasin' Chantal's skirts?" Shaking a fist at his friend Porthos caught Athos' eye. He knew the other man had no idea what he referred too.

Holding up his hand to halt further words, Athos simply gave Aramis an exasperated look. Some things didn't need spelled out. "Another woman?" With the marksman, a non verbal response usually meant Athos was correct. "Incapacitated as we are you'll have to enlist the aid of someone else to finish your shopping."

Running a hand through his already disheveled hair, Aramis refused to look at either man. Though the blush running up his face was telling in the extreme.

"Kid's more important than another one of your fancy widows, Mis." Hearing his friend say something else under his breath, Porthos closed his eyes. It was always the same with Aramis. "Ya never learn."

"One of these days, Aramis," Athos hissed, "you're going to tangle with the wrong woman's husband."

"Didn't know she was married until the next morning," Aramis freely admitted.

"Kept on seein' 'er though," Porthos snorted, shaking his head. "At least I stick ta just the occasional widow."

"You limit yourself, mon ami." If Porthos' glower was anything to go by, Aramis decided not to antagonize his friend further.

"Aramis' pursuits aside," Athos couldn't help but see his comrade rubbing at his injured shoulder, "we could see if perhaps Treville wouldn't mind helping fill whatever items are left on our hopeless romantic's list."

"Yeah, Constance's been doin' enough for us with the whelp. Bein' busy with the queen and all she won't 'ave hardly any time left for much else now."

Laying back down Athos closed his eyes, suddenly feeling very tired. "We'll make this a good Christmas for our son."

"Yeah, we will." Yawning, Porthos too laid his head down on the pillow. Glancing over at Aramis he was doing the same. Sliding his drowsy eyes over to where the doc stood he caught the physician's smug look. Then Porthos remembered the medicine Devereaux had given them prior to Constance's return. He must have laced it with a sleeping draught. Sneaky batard.

++++

_Royal Palace - King Louis' chambers_

"Oui," Louis held his wife's hands. "Superb idea! I was planning on asking my inseparables to bring Charles up here to join in the festivities with the staff's children anyway."

"Now we can plan it all around the petit." Anne was getting more excited than she thought possible. When a servant came announcing that Constance had arrived, Anne's feet carried her to the door. "Oh, Louis, this is going to be so much fun! Perhaps I could even involve the cardinal."

"Don't be expecting miracles," Louis drolly remarked.

"It was just a thought," she threw over her should as Anne went to leave. "You never know. Look how taken Cardinal Richelieu is with our Charles."

"You do have a valid point, ma cherie," Louis chuckled, thinking upon the excitement Charles had brought into their lives. "Then I won't be surprised if later I find the cardinal helping you and Constance decorating the palace." Giggling as she left him Louis thought how lucky he was to have Anne in his life as well.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I didn't think I was going to get this chapter up but enjoy the royal amusement in this one. You'll see what I mean when you get to it. More Xmas to come later.  
> I wish all of you again a very Merry Christmas!
> 
> See notes below.
> 
> ++++

_2 days later - Inseparable's home_

All three men had been released from the infirmary with strict orders from Doctor Devereaux to not do anything strenuous, other than try to get out of bed. If they didn't give their injuries a chance to heal, the doctor wanted to know the reason why. Then Devereaux had added an extra warning that he would whisk them back into his domain so fast the inseparables wouldn't know what hit them, if they went against his instructions.

"If'n the doc 'ad 'is way," Porthos snorted, "'e'd 'ave kept us in the infirmary til doomsday."

"We crossed our hearts and promised to be good petit Musketeers before we left." Wincing briefly, from the pain in his shoulder, Aramis glanced at his eldest brother who was staring back at him most oddly. "What is on your mind, mon ami?"

"Tis been bothering me ever since you admitted not knowing your Chantal was married." Sitting in his favorite chair, with his wounded leg propped up on a stool, Athos noted that Aramis wouldn't quite meet his eyes. "How did you discover it after the fact?"

"Tis embarrassing," Aramis' face flushed red.

"I gotta 'ear this one," Porthos laughed, rubbing his hands together, ready for a tall tale.

"She murmured another man's name in her sleep." Rubbing his injured shoulder Aramis tried not to react to Porthos' obvious amusement.

"And you called her on it the following morn." It was more a statement rather than a question that Athos posed. Thinking upon some of the more colorful predicaments Aramis had involved himself in, simply over a pretty face and figure, Athos could only offer his brother a rueful shake of his head.

"Next time, Mis," placing a friendly pat on his comrade's chest, Porthos grinned evilly, "find out before ya decide ta bed one of those fancy ladies you're so fond of."

"All right you two..." About to tell his friends to stop picking on him someone rapping on their door stopped Aramis' own tirade. "Now who could that be?" Since he was the closest, Aramis went to see who their visitor was. "Captain, come in."

"Gents." Stepping inside Treville removed his cloak and chapeau, handing them off to Aramis. "Came to see how you three were faring and also to let you know why your party was attacked in the first place."

"It would be informative as to why all three of us are currently nursing wounds," Athos drawled.

"Aside from the comte being an old friend of mine," Treville sat down in the chair Aramis offered, "Marcel also gathers intel for Louis."

"Ah," Athos nodded, understanding completely now. "The plot thickens."

"Quite," Treville's lips curled upward. "Usually anything that could be of usefulness to the crown." Accepting a glass of wine he sipped at it. "In this case Marcel had news of great import that needed to be told to Louis face to face. It dealt with two particular factions getting together to go against the monarchy."

"Dieu!" Aramis leaned back against the wall. "Feels like that's all we've been dealing with lately."

"Hope it was worth us nearly dying for," Porthos grunted, touching his tender side.

"Tis the most I am at liberty to say." Finishing his drink Treville stood back up, his eyes roamed over the room. "Where's our pup?"

"Charles is playing in his room," offered Aramis. "You could go in if you wish."

"Non," shaking his head, Treville smiled. "I wanted to make sure petit ears weren't listening and Charles wasn't underfoot before I opened my mouth." Noting his largest Musketeer on the verge of laughing, he pondered on what was so funny. "Do I have a smudge on my face, Porthos?"

"Nah, sir," Porthos grinned. "Just when ya said that last part I pictured Alex bein' the one under your foot instead of the runt."

Chuckling himself now Treville took a quick glance toward the child's bedroom, just in case. "Constance and the queen have worked themselves up into a fever getting all the decorations underway. Even His Majesty had gotten into the spirit telling them how he wanted the Christmas tree all decked out.'

"Oy!" Porthos shared amused looks all around. "That's gotta 'ave the ladies a tad annoyed. Wantin' ta do things one way and the king another."

Blue eyes twinkling Treville said, "Last thing I heard before I left the palace was Louis yelling at the top of his lungs about making sure the damn Christmas tree didn't fall on top of him." He looked round at his men. "Why do you think I am here?"

"Escaping the turmoil." His own blue eyes sparkling with mirth, Athos nearly barked out with a shout of laughter as the captain rolled his eyes.

"Needless to say I do have other duties to perform." Placing his chapeau back upon his head Treville re-adjusted his cloak, fastening the ornate pin that held it closed. A pin that these very men had gifted him with last Christmas.

"In a few days Christmas shall be upon us and tis sure to be a memorable one for our son," Athos remarked, looking forward to the festivities to come even though he and his brothers were sidelined from their injuries.

"Whelp's been tied up in knots over it." Remembering all the runt's chatter about Père Noël coming, brought a smile to Porthos' swarthy features.

"I believe Père Noël will have broken his sleigh by the time he's done delivering all of Charle's gifts." After his remark, Aramis grimaced remembering he still hadn't finished shopping for the toddler. "Uh, Captain, would you mind doing me a huge favor?"

Having heard from Porthos why his marksman hadn't completed Christmas shopping, Treville knew what the favor was and waited for the man to ask.

"It would be of great help to me if you would purchase these last items for Charles that are checked off on my list." Praying the officer would agree, Aramis knew his friends wouldn't be up to the task anymore than he was. Constance was already doing much for them and he couldn't ask more of her. Other men in their company probably wouldn't mind helping him out either but Aramis trusted the captain to get the job done properly.

Taking the paper from Aramis, Treville noted that there were only five items left to buy. "I see no problem in completing this for you, son." He tucked the list inside his doublet.

"Merci, Captain." Relieved that would be taken care of, Aramis turned to face two smirking faces. Holding up his hands in surrender, his lips pursed. "I promise to curtail my activities until after the festive season is over."

"I've 'eard that one before," Porthos scoffed. "The next pretty dolly who flaunts 'er skirts at ya and you'll be off like a shot." He snapped his fingers. Amused by the dark scowl darkening Aramis handsome features, Porthos began laughing. "Ah don't give me that look. It's useless on me."

Departing, Treville was happy to see some things never changed.

++++

_Royal Palace_

The perfect spot had been decided upon for the twenty five foot Christmas tree. After much discussion, and an argument or two with Louis, Anne had won. It was now the focal point adorning the center of their main hall where all the festivities would be held. She had made sure her staff braced the bottom of the tree well. It would hardly do for it to topple over and hurt someone. Constance had the presence of mind to remind her that it should also be secured from the ceiling.

A huge ladder had to be used for adorning the upper portion of the tree with the huge pile of decorations Anne, along with Constance's help of course, had gathered. Both women had directed the staff just where they wanted everything. Then they were able to help with the lower portion of the tree, with Louis getting in their way every so often.

"I've got more in it again!" Louis complained to his wife, shaking out pine needles from his long, dark hair.

"You'll get used to it." Anne rolled her eyes at Constance. The latter was doing her best not to laugh. For if the king called her on it she wouldn't know what excuse to make.

"I think we've just about emptied the kitchen's larder of fruit." Standing back Constance gazed upon some of their handiwork. Red apples, oranges, nuts, candies, dried cakes and pine cones were worked into the tree. Later she knew tiny hands would be plucking them out of their nestling spots to be enjoyed. Hearing Anne yelling at her husband, Constance turned around to see what caused it this time.

"Louis, you're eating the fruit as fast as I add them to the tree!" Crossing her arms, Anne stamped her foot hard upon the floor.

"Isn't that the purpose of putting them there?" He was puzzled as to why Anne was so angered over something so trifle.

"Not until Christmas Eve," Anne huffed, turning her back on him.

Ignoring her words, Louis observed two of his staff bringing in several more boxes. "Now what do we have?"

Digging into one box, Constance withdrew a beautiful, handmade Christmas tree skirt. It was red with white lace trim. She put it aside to be added later once the tree was fully decorated. The other box contained the candles that would be placed on the pine as well. Watching Anne help with another full box, Constance was delighted to see all the glittery ornaments and ribbons that they were going to add to the edibles already on display.

"Where are all those poinsettias I ordered?" Looking around the huge hall and not seeing them, Louis was about to yell the palace down. When Anne approached him, he closed his mouth tight.

"They will be delivered later today," She patted his cheek gently.

"Where is Cardinal Richelieu?" he demanded. "I was told he was going to help us?"

Covering her mouth, Anne tried not to laugh at the hurt look crossing her husband's face. "I believe something came up at the last minute."

"I'm sure it did," Louis remarked dryly. "Didn't I tell you to not expect miracles where he's concerned, ma cherie?"

"So you did," Anne refrained from adding anything further to that. It would only anger Louis more.

Remembering in whose company she was with, Constance said. "Your Majestys, isn't the star simply lovely that we're going to place on top?"

"As long as it doesn't fall on top of anyone's head, mainly mine, I'm pleased with it," Louis said drolly. When Anne shoved him hard in the shoulder, he started to chuckle. "I'm just pointing it out."

"If you are not going to be of any help, Louis, go do something else," Anne nearly snapped. She should have known this was going to happen when he offered to join them.

"Apologies," Louis grinned. Noting another couple of boxes that had magically appeared in the room he went over to discover what treasures they held. Opening them up he was pleasantly surprised to see delicate, homemade paper flowers in one of them. Picking one up he placed it behind his ear and struck a silly pose. "How do I look?" When both women turned around and giggled at him, Louis plucked it off and threw it back into the box. Looking into the other one he found it contained more candles. "Are we going to burn down the palace with all of these on it?"

"Louis!" Anne glared at him. When he gave her a sheepish look, she couldn't help herself and threw silver tinsel in his face.

"Now you're trying to decorate me," he cried out indignantly but with a quick wink at Anne to show he wasn't truly angry with her.

"If I may be so bold, sire," Constance walked over to him and removed the tinsel in his hair. "I believe this will look better upon our tree than you."

"Oui, Constance, I quite agree." Looking around the hall again, Louis pouted. "The cardinal is going to get an earful from me on missing out on this."

"Oh do forget him for now, Louis. We still have much to do." Helping Constance with the rest of the ornaments, Anne began taking the ribbon, candles and tinsel out of their boxes.

"Where are we going to display our creche?" Looking around Constance wasn't sure where a good location would be since it would serve as the focus for the celebration.

"I think right there near the entrance to the hall, Constance." Pointing to a spot where guests could see the creche as soon as they entered, Anne glanced at her friend for approval.

"Oui." Thinking it the perfect spot, Constance nodded in agreement. Her eyes slid toward the tree again, thinking what Charles would have to say when he saw it. "I can't wait to see Charles add his shoes under the tree, along with the other children." Her eyes were filled with excitement. This was the most joyous time of the year, not only for adults, but to see it through the eyes of an innocent child.

"Wonder what I would find if I left my shoes as well," Louis hummed. Getting hit with a piece of fruit was not on his agenda for the day but that's what his lovely wife just did.

"You, Monsieur King, will get nothing but coal if you don't get a move on," Anne threatened, amusement all but dancing in her eyes.

"And people sometimes call me a tyrant," Louis muttered. Before resuming his duties, he glanced at Constance. "You've a most calming influence on my wife. Sprinkle your magic on Anne so she quits harping on me, if you would."

"As you know, sire," Constance grinned impishly, "Her Majesty shall do as she pleases."

"Hmmpf!" Women do stick together Louis thought. Another reason for him to complain to Richelieu when next he sees the cardinal. He was badly in need of another man for back-up.

++++

_Notes: Some trivia for those most curious..._

The Christmas tree was first introduced to France in 1837 by Princess Helene de Mecklembourg when she married the Duke of Orleans, heir to the French throne. Although the first one appeared in 1521 in Alsace when it was still part of Germany.

In France, Christmas is called Noel. This comes from the French phrase - les bonnes nouvelles, which means _the good news_ , and refers to the gospel.

Père Noël stands for father Christmas.

A creche is a Nativity scene. Usually depicted with little clay figures called santons or _little saints._ In addition to the usual Holy Family, shepherds, and Magi, the craftsmen also produced figures in the form of local dignitaries and characters.

A French custom for children was to place their shoes under the tree instead of hanging up stockings for Santa (Père Noël) to fill them with gifts. They would also find sweets, fruit, nuts and small toys hung on their tree.

The red apples represented the forbidden fruit that Adam and Eve ate in the Garden of Eden.

According to tradition, 12 candles must be lit on each Christmas tree, one representing each month of the year. However, a tree may be adorned with as many candles as one liked.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to get this up earlier but going back to work after Xmas has been hectic and then one of the girls at work was sick and I think I'm getting something from her as my throat's been scratchy and I'm not feeling quite up to par. Couldn't take yesterday off as our director's away on vacation and the girl who was sick called off. So today I worked half a day and rested. So I felt up to tackling this. 
> 
> Happy New Year, Everyone!
> 
> See Notes at Bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Early Christmas Eve morning – Inseparable’s home_

“ _ARAMIS!_ ” Porthos bellowed, while trying to see what the bag he had in his possession held.

“Coming!” Throwing a dish towel over his good shoulder, Aramis came out from the kitchen. “What was so urgent that you had to shout for me?”

Dangling the bag in front of his friend, Porthos grinned. “Captin’ dropped this off for ya.”

Taking the bag, Aramis peered inside. Lifting his head his dark brown eyes lit up with joy. “He didn’t wait around for me to pay him?”

“Said ya could get ‘im back later.”

“He’s a good man.” Heading for his room Aramis paused as Athos came forward.

“Who is?” Having caught that last part of the conversation, as he limped into the room, Athos arched a brow at both his brothers.

“Captain Treville,” Aramis replied, holding up the filled bag. “He delivered the rest of the gifts I needed for Charles.”

“Best hide them fast before our son comes out.” Looking at the closed door to Charle’s room, Athos knew it wouldn’t be long before the toddler bounded out with Alex either in the lad’s arms or on top of the petit’s head. Lately it always seemed the latter was occurring on a regular basis. The kitten showed a definite preference for Charle’s head. Probably found the tyke’s soft hair a nice comfy nest to perch on. He was always amused at the sight. The Musketeer’s motto of _All For One and One for All_ seemed to suit the pair too. Since one was never seen without the other. Just like Athos and his comrades.

“Tis what I intended to do before you joined us.” Quickly, Aramis deposited the bag in his own room. “I’ll have plenty of time later to finish wrapping them.”

“Athos, did ya get those other things ta Constance yet?” If not he knew a certain titian haired woman who would be mightily upset.

“When Merle had stopped by yesterday I asked him if he wouldn’t mind delivering them to her.” Rubbing at his aching leg, Athos headed for the nearest chair. “Merde! It hurts like the very devil.”

Gingerly touching his tender side, Porthos grimaced. “Ain’t that the truth?”

Noting, as Aramis came out of his room, his brother appeared in pain again, Athos tilted his head to study the man. “You forgot again, eh?”

“I pulled on my wounded shoulder carrying the damn bag with the wrong arm!” He rolled his eyes at his own stupidity.

“What cha’ gonna do when we go ta the palace later?” If Aramis forgot again he could end up setting back his recovery, or so Porthos felt.

“I’ve already talked to Doctor Devereaux and he’s going to drop by with a sling for me to use," Aramis said. "This way I won't be tempted to try and use this arm and aggravate my shoulder."

“Gonna play up your injury, yeah?” Chuckling, Porthos remembered many a time when his friend would do just that to gain female sympathy.

“I have it from a very reliable source that slings are considered sexy.” Aramis’ smug expression apparently was comic relief to his two friends. Not amused at the laughter neither of them bothered to hide, annoyed Aramis turned his back on them, heading to the kitchen.

"Maybe we should go in there and apologize." Porthos was confused as to why Athos shook his head back at him.

"I would advise against it," Athos' lips curled upward. "A one armed marksman in the kitchen is a dangerous thing at best."

Thinking upon it, Porthos nodded in agreement. "You're right. I value my life a lot more than an apology."

The pitter patter of tiny feet caught the attention of both men. Turning around they were amused to see how excited Charles was.

Jumping up and down, Alex in his arms, Charles was near to bursting. "When can we go to the palace, papas?"

"Whoa there, runt!" Placing both hands on the tyke's shoulders, Porthos wanted to stop all the hopping around. "Ya gonna make Alex sick if ya keep that up."

"Oh!" Charle's dropped a kiss on Alex's petite head. "Apologies, Alex." When his kitten began purring, he giggled.

"Guess tis her way of accepting," Athos mused, delighted to see his son in such high spirits. Later tonight they will have a hard time getting the child to sleep.

"It was right nice of Their Majestys to let all the staff and their kids stay overnight in the palace so the youngin's could see what Père Noël brought 'em all."

"Even nicer that we were invited to stay as well," Athos added. "Will be a night to remember, mon frere."

"We're even going to arrive in style," Aramis commented, leaning against the wall. "Merle told us that a carriage will be sent to pick us up."

"I nearly forgot that part." Remembering the original reason for Merle's visit yesterday, Athos shared grateful looks with his comrades. "We best make the best of it, mes amis."

"A once in a lifetime experience." Aramis glanced at each of his brothers. "If it weren't so early I'd break out the wine."

"Bien," Athos shrugged, "we have to set a good example for our petit after all." He walked over to ruffle Charle's hair. "There will be plenty of wine flowing at tonight's festivities I'm sure," Athos drawled, with a twinkle in his blue eyes.

Signaling Athos to come over, Porthos lowered his voice so his son wouldn't hear him. "Speaking of tanight 'ow are we ta get our gifts at the palace?" Seeing Charles looking at him he hesitated for a second but then the garcon began chattering away to Aramis so he felt it was safe to continue. "You're limpin', Aramis can't afford ta lift anythin' and if I try stretchin', my side begins tellin' me I shouldn't 'ave."

"No worries, mon ami," Athos whispered. "That was the other reason Merle came to see us. He told me that a group of our brothers are going to stop by a couple of hours before we are to leave for the palace." Glancing over to the corner where Aramis was still conversing with their son Athos added, "They'll be driving a cart to carry our gifts in."

"We'll 'ave ta distract the kid when the time comes."

"I doubt tis going to be a problem." Going over to where his poppet stood Athos picked Charles up, kitten and all. "Mon ange, what do you want Père Noël to bring you?"

Placing his head on his papa Thos' shoulder, Charles smiled. "It doesn't matter," he shook his head. "I'll get to be with the king and queen again."

"But you must want something, petit?" Aramis had wondered why the child hadn't been asking for anything. True, Charles talked a mile a minute about how he couldn't wait to see the palace decorated for Christmas. How he looked forward to being with other children and playing games. That seemed to be more important to him than receiving presents.

"I got all three of you for my papas. I'm happy." With Charle's head bent down while he stroked Alex's fur, he missed seeing his papa's faces tear up.

"Sometimes the whelp scares me with what comes outta 'is mouth," Porthos admitted. "Talks like a proper adult at times."

"For saying that alone our son deserves to enjoy this season," Aramis remarked firmly. He had every intention of making sure of that.

Putting Charles back down, Athos noted the petit imp began chasing Alex all over the room. "Now, mon ange, you do not want to wear yourself out. Remember all those games you wanted to play tonight with the other youngsters."

Coming to an abrupt halt, Charles whipped his head around to stare at his papa Thos. "Okay," he bobbed his head up and down. "What will I do until then?"

"Oui, _papa Thos_ ," Aramis teased, winking at Porthos. The latter chuckled at the heat rising in their eldest brother's face. "What will Charles do for entertainment?"

Muttering under his breath, Athos snapped. "I'll think of something."

++++

_Past five in the afternoon - time to head for the palace_

Riding in the comfort of their carriage, Porthos held the whelp on his lap. He smirked at Aramis' pouting expression, because the marksman got stuck holding Alex.

"Trade you." Holding up Alex, Aramis glanced hopefully at his brother.

"We drew straws remember?" Laughing, Porthos caught the scowl marring his friend's features.

"I thought you liked our kitten." Voice containing amusement, Athos tried his best not to enjoy Aramis' discomfort.

"Tis not that," Aramis huffed. "Alex keeps wanting to crawl on my bad shoulder."

"Ah!" Athos should have guessed. Reaching out he said, "Give her to me then." When Alex was safely deposited in his arms, Athos slowly began stroking her silky fur.

"We were lucky that Jubert is takin' care of our horses agin'," Porthos said. "Givin' 'em all Christmas treats I think 'e told me."

"Oui," Aramis' dark eyes danced. "I believe he was going to feed them his special blend of barley, corn and oats."

"Do not forget the apples and sugar cubes for dessert he was going to give them," Athos pointed out.

"They may end up eating better than us," Aramis quipped.

"There's going to be lots and lots of food." Charles gave them an engaging grin. "I remember King Louis saying so."

"If'n His Majesty said so then I believe 'im." Jiggling his legs Porthos watched Charles bounce up and down on them. The whelp's high pitched giggles were infectious and soon they were all laughing.

As their carriage approached the Royal Palace, they all noted how festively decked out it was on the outside. Lanterns hung on poles gayly twined with holly and berries. The entire palace grounds were lit up in this manner making the Louvre appear to glow softly in the background.

"It's so pretty," Charles cooed. "Can we go in now?"

"We have to wait for our carriage to stop first, petit." How eager the garcon was, Athos thought. I hope all goes well once they were inside.

++++

Inside the Royal Palace

First thing that greeted all of them was the beautiful creche with all the petite santons on display.

"Oh, I know who they are?" Charles tugged on papa Mis' hand.

"All right," Aramis gently smiled at his son. "You may enlighten us, mon coeur."

Going up to the display, Charles delicately traced the figurines. "They're the Virgin Mary, Joseph and the bébé Jesus." He moved over to the rest of the santons. "And these are the wise men that came to see the bébé." Feeling a kiss placed on top of his head, Charles looked up into the proud face of papa Porth.

"Well done, whelp."

"You know," before they entered the main hall, Aramis craned his neck to look back at one of the figurines, "doesn't that one look like Cardinal Richelieu?"

"I wouldn't doubt it," Athos drawled, ushering Charles and the others inside.

"Oops!" Porthos had to be quick on his feet to catch Alex as the petite fluff ball started to race ahead of them. Cradling the tiny creature in his huge hands, he sighed. "You're right inta mischief taday aren't ya?" Not expecting an answer he was surprised when the kitten butted its head against Porthos' hands and mewed softly. "I ain't one for understandin' ya." He handed Alex back over to its owner.

"I think she's hungry." Charles looked over at papa Thos. "Alex was too excited to eat at home."

"Of course she was." Athos winked at the garcon. "But I know for a fact that Her Majesty and Constance have something special prepared for her tastebuds."

Looking down at his pet, Charles smiled. "See, Alex, you weren't forgotten."

"Hey there," Porthos nudged Athos in the side. "Ain't that Monsieur Parris? The one that sold you the Meren?"

"It is indeed." Athos was sure he would see Gregoire later so he could wish him a Joyeux Noel.

"Oh Mon Dieu!" Aramis exclaimed.

"What's wrong?" Porthos looked at his brother with concern. "We just got 'ere. Ya ain't 'ad time ta ruffle some husband's feathers yet."

Pushing at Porthos' shoulder in annoyance, Aramis shook his head. "Non, tis nothing like that. I'm just looking at all the fancy peacocks strutting around in their fine clothes."

"What did you expect?" Looking around the room it was true. Because of his background, Athos knew it would be so. Dignitaries, nobles and their wives, or paramours in some cases, were in attendance. "You can see what God thinks of money when you see the people he gives it to," he snorted.

"Good one, Athos." Porthos laughed, lifting Charles into his arms so the runt could get a better view of the twenty five foot Christmas tree that took center stage.

"It's so tall," Charles was in awe of how majestic it was. "Shiny too." Wriggling out of his arms, Alex pounced on the floor and made a beeline for the tree. "Come back, Alex!"

"Non, non, non!" Athos swore silently. This is not how he wanted their evening to begin. "Someone grab that kitten!"

Giggling at his papas racing after his pet, Charles stood beside papa Thos and wondered if he should go help. "I should get her." The weight of his papa's hand on Charle's shoulder made him glance upward.

"Non," Athos shook his head. "One of you in trouble is enough for me." Observing his friends chasing after the marmalade kitten and coming up empty, perhaps Athos should enlist Cardinal Richelieu's help. 

Running in a circle around the tree skirt, Aramis and Porthos tried to catch the wily Alex. She kept weaving in and out of all the red and white poinsettias that were situated near the tree.

"Where'd she go?" Porthos glanced at Aramis, the latter threw his good arm up in the air. "Makes ya want ta swear a blue streak at times."

"Not here, mon ami," Aramis reminded his large friend. "Too many petite ears around."

Grunting, Porthos continued his search. Hearing sounds of feminine laughter nearby, he twisted around and found himself face to face with Her Majesty and Constance. They were both pointing up at the Christmas tree. Closing his eyes tight, he knew what that meant. "Aramis," he hissed.

Giving his comrade a puzzled look, Aramis noted the direction of Porthos' finger. "Now what do we do?"

"Wait for her to come down on her own of course." Constance took Aramis by the arm not in the sling. Glancing at it, she grinned. "You wear it well."

Turning a smirking face at both his brothers, Aramis patted her hand and let her lead them to the punch bowl.

"Ow!" Louis cried, rubbing the back of his head. Looking on the floor he picked up a red apple and a pine cone. "Anne, your tree is dropping things on me," he complained. Placing the piece of fruit and cone in her hands, he rubbed at the spot again.

"Tis not the tree's fault, Louis," Anne's eyes sparkled. "Alex is up there."

Eyes growing round with surprise, Louis began chuckling. "Let us not tell our guests to beware of foreign projectiles then."

"You are a very bad king," she teased. "But perhaps we should at least warn the cardinal."

"Why?" Louis tugged on her wrist. "He can fend for himself. Now let us greet our Charles."

"Your Majestys have outdone yourselves this year," Athos regally bowed. Bringing Charles forward, he was pleased at the child's manners.

"Merci for asking me to come." Beginning to feel slightly overwhelmed with the sights, sounds and people surrounding him, Charles began to chew on his thumb. He also began to miss his real papa. Soulful brown eyes looked at his papa Thos, as a tear slipped down one cheek.

Knowing that was a sign of insecurity and something else mixed in as well, Anne knelt down beside the petit garcon. Pulling Charle's thumb out of his mouth she gently wiped the tear away with a finger. Of course, how stupid of her to not think upon it. Charles was missing his true pere. Exchanging a knowing look with Athos, she turned the toddler around and pointed to the other children. Some were his age and some a little older. "They've been waiting for you." Standing up Anne took his hand into her own. "Come, let me introduce you to them. They all belong to our servants."

Glancing at his papa Thos for permission, Charles trotted along with her.

He could have kicked himself in the ass for forgetting, that since this was Charle's first Christmas without his pere, the poppet would be reminded of Alexandre tonight. Fortunately Queen Anne understood right away and took matters into her own hands. Finding himself now alone with the king, Athos had something else on his mind. "Are all our gifts here, sire?"

"Oui," King Louis drew closer to his soldier. "I supervised it myself."

Not sure if he should have been worried about that part or not, Athos found himself nodding his head and humming in agreement with what his monarch was going on about. "You have our thanks." Leaning against his cane, Athos found himself wincing as pain lanced through his leg. "Merde," he swore softly.

"Come, Athos." Taking the Musketeer by the arm, King Louis led Athos to a chair. "There's no sense in you standing when you can sit in comfort."

"Merci." Once seated Athos was able to stretch out his injured leg, relieved when the pain began to lesson. When the young king began to laugh, Athos tried to see what was so amusing. Spotting Cardinal Richelieu glaring up at the Christmas tree, he had to stifle his own mirth. Alex struck again he noted.

"Perhaps I should cajole Alex down and tempt her with the delicacies we have waiting for her." King Louis grinned down at Athos. "We have a selection of cooked beef, chicken, turkey, cheese, and a special mix of grains for her to choose from."

"Sire, if Alex has all of those we shall never get her to come home with us," Athos remarked, a tad concerned.

"Let us worry about that when the time comes," King Louis countered. "I'm going to see if I can help Aramis and Porthos get her down."

As His Majesty walked off, Athos was approached by other Musketeers. Specifically Germain, Dufort, Paul, Eustis and Merle. "Joyeux Noel!" He waved a hand in greeting.

"We're happy to see you here." Eustis handed him a glass of white wine. "But where are the others?"

"Chasing a petite troublemaker." Lips twitching, Athos pointed toward the tree.

"That could take them all night." Laughing along with his friends, Merle observed the king trying to help get Alex down.

"Once Porthos gets a whiff of the buffet table I think Alex will be the last thing on his mind." His remark made the others smile in shared amusement, while Athos enjoyed his drink.

"Hey, Germain," Dufort clapped the man on the shoulder. "Isn't that Violet?"

"Indeed it is," Germain grinned. "Gentlemen, I'm off."

"I gather she is someone of import to him." Athos quirked a brow at the other men left.

"She's one of the queen's maids," Paul offered. "Germain's been trying to get her to notice him."

"Get them under the tree," Athos suggested. "I'm sure an apple or two on their heads would do the trick." He knew none of them understood what he referred too. "Alex has been knocking things off of it as she plays."

"Tis not a bad idea," Dufort said. "Let's go get them."

After they departed, Porthos came back. "We can't catch her and I'm hungry."

"There's a well stocked buffet right over there with your name on it, mon frere," Athos grinned. "Prior to being here Constance told me the queen arranged the entire menu. I believe goose is the main course along with oysters, pat de foie gras, brioche, creme brulee, crepes, croissants, mousse, an array of fruits, candies and cheeses..." he could have gone on but Porthos raised a hand. "But do leave me a piece of the Buche de Nol at least." He doubted Porthos had ever moved so fast. Calling out after his retreating figure Athos said. "Bon appetit!

++++

_Notes:_

The thing about Aramis being sexy with a sling was something mentioned to me from Fanny. I had a visual in my mind after she said that and I couldn't shake it. LOL!

The quote: _"You can see what God thinks of money when you see the people he gives it to."_ is from Abraham Lincoln.

I've changed things around slightly in regards to when the great feast is usually served. It's known as _Le rveillon_ and is served after midnight mass on Christmas Eve. For my story I am having the great feast before mass. Then they'll break and everyone will attend midnight mass and come back to the palace so all the families, with children that were invited, can stay overnight. The children will leave their shoes out for Père Noël to fill and then see what he left them on Christmas day, plus their other gifts.

 _Buche de Nol_ means Christmas Log which is the traditional Yule log-shaped cake served during Le rveillon.

Don't worry, more of Charles next chapter with playing games,, church, placing of the shoes under the tree, gifts on Xmas day, etc.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone!
> 
> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Royal Palace – Christmas Eve festivities continue_

Felicite was filled with the Christmas spirit. Observing the poor, injured Musketeer Athos sitting all alone she filled a plate of food for the wounded man. Bringing it over to him, Felicite had a bright smile on her face.

Seeing her coming toward him, Athos was surprised to say the least. Dipping his head in thanks of the gesture he said, “Merci, Mademoiselle Felicite.”

“You know who I am?” She hadn’t thought Athos had ever taken notice of her whenever the Musketeer had been on palace duty.

“Of course.” Picking out a choice piece of meat from his plate he tried the goose first. “You are part of the queen’s ladies-in-waiting.”

Disappointment flowed through Felicitie, for she had a crush on Athos for a considerable time. She should have guessed that, being a Musketeer, he had to make it his business to know everyone surrounding Their Majestys. “Tis nice to know you remembered, Monsieur Athos.”

Waving his free hand in the air, Athos smiled. ‘I wouldn’t be much of a soldier if my memory failed me as tis part of my job being the king’s soldier.”

Oh well, she silently sighed, feeling slightly deflated. It wasn’t like Felicite hadn’t known that before. Plastering a somewhat sad smile back on her face, she figured lingering here any longer was for not. “I hope you enjoy yourself.”

His eyes on Charles happily playing Christmas games with the other children, Athos acknowledged her with another dip of his regal head. “I know I shall.”

“I must get back to my queen.” She gave a slight curtsy to him. “Joyeux Noel, Athos.”

“Joyeux Noel,” Athos returned, watching her walk away from him. Thinking upon it, he thought he had noted disappointment in her eyes. Felicitie, while quite attractive, left him cold. After his disastrous marriage to Anne, and how that turned out, any woman did. He wanted no part of female companionship in any form.

Rejoining his brother, Aramis sat down beside Athos. He too carried a plate full of food and was looking forward to enjoying it.

“Where is Constance?” Still nursing the single glass of white wine Eustis had given him, Athos took a sip.

“Alas, she has abandoned me,” Aramis sighed dramatically. “Actually she’s helping the queen with the children at play.” He stabbed a piece of roasted chicken with a fork. “Richelieu’s even over there giving directions.”

“If it weren’t for my leg I’d like to go over there and see the cardinal trying to keep a group of children organized,” Athos chuckled, visualizing the mayhem. “Do I gather that Porthos and you have given up on getting Alex out of the Christmas tree?” Placing his empty glass on the tray of one of the servers walking past, Athos then picked up something from his plate but wasn’t sure what it was. Cocking an eyebrow high at Aramis’ amused face, he waited for the marksman’s opinion.

Giving the unknown piece of food, if that's what it was, a dubious once over Aramis tilted his head closer toward his friend. “It has been my experience that when in doubt put it back.”

“I agree.” Placing the questionable piece back on his plate, Athos chose oysters instead. ‘Much safer that way.”

“Gents,” Treville noted the two men had enough food to fill their stomachs and appeared to be enjoying themselves. “Alex still in the tree?” Following Aramis’ finger he indeed observed the petite kitten jumping to and fro from one branch to the next, with the occasional ornament falling off. He wondered if perhaps he should warn anyone, seeing some land harmlessly on the floor though others hit unsuspecting guests on the head or elsewhere on their person. “Time for a new strategy I think.”

Both Aramis and Athos watched the officer go through the doors leading to the royal kitchen. Coming back a few minutes later, Treville had a bowl full of food that they surmised was for Alex.

"Alex!" Treville craned his neck looking for her, while waving the bowl of delicacies in the air. Hopefully the kitten would catch the scent of the choice cuts of meat that had been put aside for her. "Come down and eat." He caught some movement off to far right, so Treville moved closer to the branch that was shaking. "I have some turkey, chicken and some beef for you." Knowing he was receiving odd looks from the many guests in attendance, he had to shrug off their stares.

He guessed it did look funny with him talking to a Christmas tree. Last time Treville looked this was not in his job description but needs must, especially for family. If left to her own devices Alex would have knocked off most of the ornaments. Plus if she climbed up any higher they would have the devil of a time getting her back down. It was then that he felt someone hovering near his shoulder, Treville glanced to the side and found Cardinal Richelieu standing there. Was that a smirk on His Eminence's face?

"I gather she's in the tree?" Richelieu asked somewhat dryly. When he got a bowl shoved into his hands, he frowned down into it. Noting Treville bow to him, Richelieu figured it was his turn to try and tempt Alex down. Fortunately, having many cats of his own, Alex would catch their scent on him, however faint it would be.

It wasn't long after that when the orange fluffball jumped from her last perch onto the floor. Placing the bowl on the ground Richelieu observed Alex's tiny pink tongue peek out to taste the food. Pleased with his efforts he turned around to note a sour faced Treville staring back at him. "Remember you did hand me the bowl." With a casual look and nod toward Athos and Aramis he went over to where King Louis was holding court.

"Now we just have to keep Alex away from that tree," Aramis hummed, still enjoying his meal.

"I suggest someone bring her over to Charles," Athos drawled.

"Since I am already standing I shall deliver her to the lad when Alex finishes her dinner," Treville offered with a smile. "While waiting would either of you care for another drink from the buvette?"

"How kind of you to offer, Captain," Athos said. "Oui, I would. Merci."

"I'm good, sir." Holding up his half filled glass of red wine, Aramis grinned up at the older man.

When Treville left them they noted old Serge, by the buffet table, muttering and shaking his head over something. He came away with enough food on his plate to feed a mini regiment.

"Serge, you're not big enough to hold all that food," Aramis quipped.

Coming over to them, Serge shook his head sadly. "I'm gonna try some of this out to see if it's something you men would enjoy me serving over at the canteen." He continued to stare at the food he had picked out, making a face. "I may have to ask the palace chef for the recipes if I can figure out what all this stuff is." When Athos and Aramis began laughing, Serge scowled but pulled a chair over to sit beside them.

++++

Playing dice and making merry, Porthos was pleased with his winnings. This beat looking for Alex that's for sure.

"Porthos, some of us were going to play soule," Germain said. "Want to join us?"

"Normally I'd love ta but I'm gonna stay right 'ere and try my luck," Porthos grinned, winking at the younger Musketeer.

"You don't need luck, mon ami," Dufort laughed, with his brothers joining in. "Probably all of them will walk away with lighter pockets this eve and you a much fuller one."

"Better than risking our necks playing soule," Paul added. Not sure if he really wanted to participate and end up injured. He could just hear the captain yelling loudly at him, if Paul ended up in the infirmary.

"Let's leave the man to his dice." Hustling all the men away Germain led them over to another group waiting for them.

"I'm glad you did not leave with them." Comte de la Fontaine grinned at the large Musketeer. "I need to win back what I lost to you, Porthos."

"As do I," Doctor Perrot ruefully added. Not being the best at playing dice it had looked like everyone was having such a good time that he had to join in. His nearly empty purse wasn't having any fun though. Still he followed the other two men back to the game again.

++++

Charles was enjoying himself playing with all the other children in attendance. Constance and the queen were helping with the games while another lady, that he didn't recognize, was telling stories of Christmas to some of the others. Captain Treville had brought Alex over to him and the rest of his playmates made a big fuss over her.

"Mon petit," King Louis placed a hand on top of the garcon's head. "I have an announcement to make." He was pleased with what he had to impart. "Normally this is done on Christmas but for today I'm changing things around and you shall be our Lord of Misrule."

"What does that mean?" Not understanding what the king spoke of, Charles glanced at Constance who gave him a tender smile.

"You, Charles, will lead in the games." Giving the youngster a critical look, King Louis rubbed his chin. "You're too young to join in the adult dances so you don't have to worry upon taking charge of that. But you can order everyone around to do your bidding." Leaning down, he whispered in the petit garcon's ear. "Even me. Not many can boast doing so."

Eyes wide looking up at the king, Charles bit his lip. "Doesn't sound right." He drew closer to Constance, unsure of this.

"Tis just for tonight, Charles." Constance squeezed the toddler closer to her side, kissing the tip of his nose.

"What is your first order, Charles?" Anne exchanged a loving look with Louis over his kindness to the petit.

Looking past the king, Charle's eyes scanned the area searching for and finally spotting Alex amongst the many children gathered around his pet. "Sire, would you get me my kitten?"

"As you wish, young sir." Turning smartly on his heels, and with a wink in Anne's direction, Louis went to fetch Alex.

And so that set the tone for nearly the remainder of the party.

Charles gently ordered the king about, mostly during the children's games that he made His Majesty participate in. It still didn't feel right but if King Louis said so it must be.

When Anne walked past him, Louis caught her hand and asked, "Would you get me a glass of champagne to keep me going?"

"Finding it rather harder than it looks to keep up with all the young ones?" Patting his cheek gently, Anne smiled sweetly. "Of course, mon cher."

"As in regards to Lords of Misrule," Louis chuckled, "our Charles is a very undemanding one."

"I do not believe he feels comfortable in his role. But soon the children will be going to bed and we'll all be departing for mass." Leaving then, Anne went to get Louis his drink.

++++

Later it was time for all the young children to place their shoes and sabots underneath the Christmas tree. Hoping Père Noël would fill them come the early morn.

After Charles placed his pair of shoes along with the others, he found all his papas standing near him.

"Time for bed, runt." Porthos wished he could pick the kid up but his sore side prevented him indulging in his favorite nighttime ritual. He knew his other friend's wounds kept them from doing so as well. With Aramis' bad shoulder there was no way he could lift the whelp. Nor could Athos, with him being none to steady on his feet and using that cane of his.

Each of the men placed goodnight kisses either on top of the tyke's head or cheek until Charles couldn't stop giggling. When Alex perched herself on their young one's head, none of them tried to snatch her off.

"Bonne nuit, papas" Charles waved at them. Then he took hold of the hand Constance held out to him.

"We will take them to their rooms now." She began leading all the petites out of the main room. Glancing over her shoulder, Constance looked at one Musketeer in particular. "Aramis, would you wait for me?"

"I will remain right here." Pleased, Aramis watched her go with the children. He was secretly laughing at the picture his son made with the kitten curled up on the child's head. It was a miracle in itself that the petite troublemaker wasn't targeting the Christmas tree again. Still, Aramis didn't know what would happen on the morrow.

While waiting, Aramis and Athos overheard Porthos raising his voice. Turning around they spotted their brother picking up a man clear off the floor.

Placing a hand on his friend's shoulder, Athos asked what the trouble was. "Problem, mon frere?"

"Yeah, ya could say that." Porthos shook the man hard.

"Porthos," Aramis tisked, "tis Christmas Eve. Goodwill toward man... remember?" Noting that the unfortunate victim of his brother's wrath was standing near the buffet table, Aramis could only guess that the stranger was stealing some food. "If he's hungry let him feast on what is left."

"That ain't what 'e was takin'." Pointing toward a stack of silverware wrapped up in a dirty cloth that rested on the buffet table, Porthos glared into the frightened eyes of the would-be thief.

"Let him go." Athos spoke softly but with authority.

Growling, Porthos glowered at both of his brothers as if they had lost their minds.

"Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, Porthos." Aramis observed his friend finally putting the thief down. "For by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it."

"Angels?" Shoving the thief toward the exit, Porthos glared at him. "Get outta 'ere while you can still walk." Then glancing back at Aramis he stood there with his arms crossed. "Angels," he repeated again, not quite believing in the heavenly beings. "Bah humbug."

Fortunately before Porthos would make an argument of it Their Majestys re-entered the hall with Constance by their sides, along with all the other servants that had been invited to the party tonight.

Taking Constance by the arm, Aramis helped her into a very attractive red cape with an attached hood. It was trimmed in a soft fur and lined in it as well so it would be quite warm for her and she wouldn't catch a chill. When that was done, he and his brothers fastened their own cloaks. Following behind Their Majestys, all of them left the palace for midnight mass.

++++

Carriages were lined up outside the palace to take all of them to Notre-Dame Cathedral. As they passed by the cobblestone streets, with their brightly decorated storefronts, sounds of carolers rang out in the crisp night air. They also took in the many other beautifully lit churches and other cathedrals they rode past. With the church bells ringing for all to hear, everyone could be forgiven in forgetting the turmoil that still ran riot in Paris. Drawing up to Notre-Dame all the passengers emerged from their carriages, forming a procession they solemnly entered the church.

++++

_Christmas day - early morning_

All the excited children, including Charles, were astounded at how their shoes and sabots were all filled to bursting with tiny gifts. They also found that the Christmas tree was now magically decorated with toys for them to pluck from the pine branches. Many eager hands tore at the tree for the fruit, candies and cookies that had been on it the night before but they were not allowed to touch.

Then the petites found more presents bearing their names underneath the tree. All of them, of course, thought Père Noël had left them there when in actuality those gifts were from their own parents.

Placing them neatly in a pile, Charles was amazed at the gifts Père Noël had put in his shoes. That didn't even count the tasty treats and other toys he had pulled from the tree. When papa Thos crooked a finger at him, Charles trotted over.

"We all have special gifts for you too but will wait for the other young ones to go home with their parents." Athos could see the confusion written on his son's face.

"Why do we have to wait?" Bending down Charles picked Alex up. The kitten was attempting to crawl up his leg without success.

"Because even though they received many gifts we do not want them to feel left out when you get yours." Hoping that stopped any further questions, Athos leaned back in his chair listening to all the chatter around him.

So it was that Charles and the rest of the children showed off to each other what Père Noël had given them. With the eventual arrival of Their Majestys, the parents gathered up their young. Graciously thanking the royals for a delightful evening and wonderful Christmas morning, the palace servants then left with their children to go to their own homes.

"Now the fun begins." Louis took Anne's hand in his own, squeezing it gently.

"All right, petit, go ahead." Pulling his chair closer to the tree, Athos was content to be surrounded by his brothers, Constance and Treville. The latter had also been invited to stay the night in the palace. He was going to thoroughly enjoy watching his son open up his presents.

Gift after gift appeared beside him, while Charles sat on the floor near the Christmas tree. He didn't know which one to open first, there were so many.

Joining him on the floor, Constance helped Charles out by handing him a gayly wrapped box first. "Tis from me."

Bouncing with excitement, Charles tore through the wrapping paper tearing his gift open. Pushing aside the tissue paper he didn’t immediately recognize what he was seeing until Charles removed it from the box. Eyes growing round as saucers he knew it was the uniform of a king’s soldier. "I'm going to be a real Muskyteer!" he crowed proudly. His fingers glided over the supple tan leather of the matching pants and doublet.

"I made them for you." Placing a kiss upon the garcon's cheek, Constance cuddled him close. Handing him a few other gifts she urged Charles to open them up. "These go with it."

Next Charles opened up another present to find a chapeau just like his papas.

"That one's from me, mon ange." Athos was pleased at his poppet's delight.

Another package contained a pair of leather boots which Charles tried on right away, proudly showing them off.

"I got you those, mon coeur." Amused and well pleased too, Aramis couldn't wait to see his son dressed in the outfit.

The other gift held a miniature weapon's belt filled with a wooden toy arsenal.

"It’s from me, whelp." Porthos grinned at Charle's excitement over them as he took each one out to examine it. "Carved 'em myself. Ya got a poignard, main gauche, musket and sword there."

"I love them!" Going over to Constance first, Charles hugged her tight and kissed her cheek. He then did the same to each of his papas.

"Uh, Charles," Treville bent down to hand the tot another gift that would set the uniform off in grand style. "Tis mine." Observing the petit as he opened it, Treville was happy with the arms that threatened to choke him from the hug Charles gave him in thanks.

Holding the captain’s present with great care, Charle's fingers reverently traced the intricate patterns that covered the miniature pauldron. "I am a real Muskyteer now," he said softly.

"Tis beautiful, Captain," Athos remarked. He had known Treville was going to have it commissioned for his son but didn't have the chance earlier to see it for himself. Nor did any of his brothers, who were all grinning like idiots now at how tenderly Charles held it in his arms.

"All right, kid," Porthos broke in gruffly. "There's more for ya ta get through."

Handing the pauldron off to papa Mis, Charles concentrated on the rest of his gifts which were considerable. By the time he was done, he had garnered quite a unique collection. A new hoop and stick, a button whirligig, another rocking horse that looked an awful lot like his poney Zad, a new ball and wooden top. He received another dobby horse because his other one was broken. Then there were a variety of other board games to round everything off.

It didn't escape Athos' notice that mixed among the games were a set of dice. He confiscated the last set Porthos gave the tyke. Now here was another. "Dice!" Athos scowled at his brother who turned a sheepish grin his way. "I repeat... _dice?_ "

"Kid don't 'ave ta play for money." Defending his choice, Porthos pulled a face at his older brother.

Sighing in defeat Athos caught Aramis trying, not very successfully, to hide his amusement. "I suppose you knew?"

Holding both hands up, Aramis nodded. "Guilty as charged."

"A _SLED!_ " Charles cried out with delight. "Back home my papa made one for me. He would tie my sled to a horse and have it pull me around in the snow." It was a warm, sad memory that Charles had nearly forgotten about.

"We'll find the time to take you sledding, mon coeur." Winking at the lad, Aramis was pleased when Charles perked right back up again.

"Our turn next," King Louis gleefully announced. "First the smaller gifts."

Queen Anne sat down on the floor beside Constance with Charles between them. As her husband handed her one of the presents, she in turn gave it to the petit.

Eyebrows rising high at the sight of the wooden croquet set, Athos exchanged looks with his brothers. He knew it would be up to him or the young royals to teach Charles the game.

Next came a miniature pewter set of toy soldiers and horses, which had Aramis whistling softly. They'll have to make sure Charles played with those inside the house. It wouldn't do to lose any of those, considering what they may have cost the king.

What took Porthos by surprise was seeing the miniature blue cloak that Their Majestys gifted the whelp with. He didn't know they were in on their secret of gifting Charles with a Musketeer uniform.

Holding it out, Charles showed it to everyone. "I can't wait to wear it with my other things."

But the king and queen had one last present for the toddler. Snapping his fingers King Louis waited for two servants to come out carrying the Marionette Theatre.

"Mon Dieu!" exclaimed Athos quietly, so that only his brothers heard him. "I thought the petite throne was over the top. Now this!"

"At least we can take this home with us." A bit stunned over the presents, Aramis did take pleasure in watching Charles examine the theatre.

"There are six Marionette puppets inside." Queen Anne looked at the inseparables. "We didn't think on it before but do any of you know how to work them?"

"I have seen performances," Athos shrugged. "But tis all."

"How hard could it be?" King Louis took one out, grabbed the control bar to which the wooden figurine's strings were attached, and tried to make the puppet come to life. He only succeeded in tangling the strings up instead. At least King Louis made Charles giggle, as he listened to the toddler while trying to untangle the mess he had created. Huffing, King Louis placed the puppet back in the theatre. "Perhaps one of our servants knows how to make them work."

"Do not worry yourself so, sire." Athos smiled graciously. "Your gifts were truly magnificent. I fear between all of us we have spoiled Charles terribly."

"So did Père Noël." Running her hand through Charle's hair, Queen Anne smiled up at her husband.

Throwing himself into the queen's arms, Charles kissed her on the cheek. "Merci for all my gifts."

She returned the embrace with a gentle kiss to the youngster's forehead. "Our pleasure, petit."

Going over to where the king sat, Charles climbed up onto his lap and hugged him as well. Then placed his head on King Louis' chest.

"What! No kiss for me?" King Louis teased. Pointing to his face he waited patiently but nothing happened. Rolling his eyes he said, "I'm still waiting for my kiss." So when the garcon finally did peck King Louis on the cheek, he reciprocated by placing one of his own on the tip of Charle's nose.

Sitting comfortably on His Majesty's lap, Charle's eyes skimmed over his family and friends. Seeing all the wonderful things he had received this day, he had a question for them. "Did Père Noël bring all of you what you wished for?"

Each person in the room looked at one another, all thinking the same thing. Père Noël did gift them with the best Christmas present ever. He gave them the gift of Charles.

++++

_Notes:_

For my story I changed the day for the Lord of Misrule. It is done on Twelfth Day which is the last of the Twelve Days of Christmas. Instead I had it done on Christmas Eve.

Soule was a popular Chistmas past-time. Happening between neighbouring villages. Two opposing teams competed for possession of a large block of wood or a moss-filled leather ball. It is propelled by being punched with the fist, kicked, or struck with curved sticks. All blows are allowed, which explains the large number of injuries or even fatalities involved in the game.

Sabots were wooden shoes, usually worn by peasants.

The quote: _"Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it."_ is a biblical quote from Hebrews 13:2.

As to the Marionette Theatre. The word Marionette means _little Mary_. One of the first ones created was the Virgin Mary. Hence the name.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of lighthearted fun here. Enjoy!
> 
> ++++

_A week after Christmas_

Things went back to normal after the holiday festivities. Porthos and Aramis had been given palace duty, as their wounds didn't prevent them from standing at attendance with the king. Athos, on the other hand, was able to rest his leg and work at the same time by helping Captain Treville with the mounds of paperwork that gathered on the officer's desk like dust bunnies. But because they were back on active duty, they weren’t able to yet take Charles sled riding. Constance would have taken the petit herself today but was needed by the queen. So it was that Athos found himself watching the child out of the corner of his eye while in Treville's office.

Other Musketeers had been coming and going from the captain’s office all morning, for one thing or another. It was then that Ancil, Dandre and Baptiste noticed the well behaved child playing with his toys in the corner of the room.

"Why aren’t you outside trying your new sled, Charles?" questioned a curious Dandre.

"No one to take me." Continuing to play with his spinning top, Charles didn’t take note of the three soldiers talking to one another. Nor did he catch his papa Thos frowning at the other Musketeer's words.

Stepping forward, Baptiste slowly approached Athos. "Would it be all right with you if we take Charles just outside so he could sled around the Garrison?"

"We are all off duty," Ancil offered with a gentle smile in the toddler’s direction.

Rubbing his chin thoughtfully Athos at first hesitated, not sure what to do. Knowing that these particular men got into as much trouble as he and his brothers usually did made him think twice about accepting. But they were highly regarded in the regiment and Athos figured the lad couldn’t be in better hands. Plus he noted the child’s eyes lingering on his sled that was perched into another corner of the room. It had been Athos' hope, and that of Aramis and Porthos too, that they'd be able to find time to take the youngster sledding themselves but it didn't appear to work out that way. Hence the reason for the sled being in his captain's office. Coming to a decision, Athos held up his hand. "Tis fine with me." He pointed a finger at each of the soldiers. "Just keep a close eye on him." Lowering his voice Athos added, "Charles has a nasty habit of finding trouble."

"Like his papas, eh?" Dandre said, making all the men chuckle.

"Charles," Baptiste knelt down beside the tot, "how would you like us to take you sledding in the Garrison?"

Pausing, as Charles was about to put his top away in favor of one of his new board games, he glanced up into Baptiste’s kind face. "Oui," he bobbed his head. "I would like that very much." Looking toward papa Thos he asked, "May I?"

"Of course, Charles." Winking at his son Athos patted his knee, which was his signal for the tyke to come over and give him a kiss. Which the poppet did before Charles grabbed his thick jacket, mittens, warm chapeau and stuffed his feet into sturdy boots.

Following behind Dandre, who was carrying his sled for him, Charles turned back to smile and wave at both the captain and his papa.

After the door closed behind them, Treville reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a flask and two glasses. Filling them with brandy he shoved one glass toward his lieutenant. "I have a feeling we're both going to need that." When Athos simply grunted back at him, Treville knew already that the man regretted his decision.

++++

_Outside in the courtyard_

"Wheeeeee!" Charles cried out in delight. The three soldiers had been taking turns pushing his sled around. Ancil was currently pulling the rope on his sled that was tied to the front. So Charles found himself zig zagging on the frozen ground.

"Good thing the temperature dropped enough to make what snow was on the ground icy," Dandre remarked to Baptiste.

"Oui, made it easier for Charle's sled to glide on. Almost like skating on one of the ponds." Noting Ancil signaling for him to come over, Baptiste figured it was his turn next.

Even though the ground in the Garrison was pretty much flat the men had managed to find some spots where it dipped. It made it more fun for Charles when they let go of the sled, watching the garcon slide down the slope. It was one such slope that caused their next headache, when Baptiste began running at a fast pace pushing Charles on the sled. His foot slipped on the icy surface sending him sprawling, face first into the chilly snow, and the sled hellbent on its next destination.

Having the time of his young life, Charles was too busy enjoying the cold wind on his face while his sled gained speed. So it was that he missed seeing the figure crossing his path.

On his way back to the canteen Serge was carrying a huge, heavy sack of potatoes in both arms. Carefully placing one foot in front of the other, so as not to fall and break his neck, he didn't hear the sled coming his way nor the gay laughter of an excited child.

"Oh merde!" Baptiste swore upon seeing the catastrophe about to unfold. " _SERGE! GET OUT OF THE WAY!_ " He jumped up and down, waving his hands at the older man. Glancing behind him, Baptiste heard Ancil and Dandre yelling as well. But it was to no avail. What was meant to be happened in the blink of an eye.

When Charles realized he was about to hit someone, he pulled as tight as he could on the rope to slow his sled down but it wouldn't respond. Dropping the rope, covering his face with his mittens, Charle's waited for the inevitable.

One minute Serge was cautiously making his way back to his kitchen and the next found his old body flung up into the air like so much paper. When he landed back onto the icy, snowcovered, ground, Serge was positive he heard his bones rattling. Lying in that manner, he thought it peculiar to watch potatoes flying through the air. Then again, with his leather cloak covering part of his face, Serge didn't get the entire benefit of seeing those same potatoes hitting unsuspecting Musketeers on their way back down.

One plus of hitting a human obstacle was the fact that it slowed Charles sled enough that the toddler was able to stop it.

Noting that the petit garcon appeared fine, Dandre, Ancil and Baptiste all rushed forward surrounding Serge.

From his position, Serge owlishly blinked up at the three soldiers. "Wha... what happened?"

Dandre and Ancil stared at Baptiste. The latter gave Serge a sheepish smile. "We took Charles to try out his new sled."

"Unfortunately you were in the wrong place at the wrong time," Ancil murmured wryly.

"Could we talk about this after you help me up," Serge griped. "It's mighty cold down here."

"Of course." Dandre offered the former Musketeer his hand. Carefully he helped Serge onto the man's shaky legs.

"My potatoes!" Serge saw them all scattered about, half covered with snow.

"No worries," Ancil knelt on the ground. "We'll gather them up for you."

"Grab that sack Serge had them in," Baptiste told Dandre. "I'm going to see how Charles is." He barely took two steps when he noted that the petit had joined them.

Thumb in his mouth, Charles cautiously approached Serge. "I'm sorry. Didn't see you in time and couldn't stop." Wrapping his arms around Serge's legs, Charles huddled close. "Are you okay?"

Patting the lad on the shoulders Serge sighed, not really mad at anybody. "It's times like these that make me feel my age, Charles. I'm sure I'll be feeling a might sore later," he winced just thinking about it. "Glad it happened to me than the captain."

Upon being reminded of their commander, all three Musketeers glanced upward toward Treville's office and grimaced. Standing there looking down upon them were Athos and the captain. Neither of which appeared happy.

"Guess we're in trouble again." Baptiste bumped shoulders with Ancil who in turn bumped his shoulder against Dandre. All three glanced at Charles who was oblivious to their anxiety.

" _DOES SERGE NEED TO SEE ME!_ " yelled Doctor Perrot from the balcony of the infirmary. He had heard the shouting and came out just in time to see the old man flying up in the air like a bird.

" _I AIN'T DEAD YET!_ " Serge bellowed. " _YOU CAN COME AND GET ME WHEN I AM!_ " Letting go of Charle's clingy arms he trudged toward his canteen, Dandre closely followed with Serge's sack of potatoes.

"I think we better take Charles back now." Pulling the sled behind him, Ancil placed his other hand on the tot's back. "One thing we know for sure," he cocked a brow at Baptiste.

"I'm afraid to ask," Baptiste' lips tightened.

"I think the regiment's found a secret weapon to use during the winter months," Ancil's lips quirked.

"Charles or the sled?" Baptiste tried hard not to laugh.

"Both," Ancil chuckled.

++++

_Captain Treville's office_

While Athos brushed snow off of his son, Treville glared at his men. "You were given one simple task." He rubbed a hand up and down the back of his neck. "How could you possibly botch it up?" When Dandre was about to open his mouth, Treville held up a finger. "Aht! I don't want to know after all."

Glancing over the corner where his lieutenant was with the lad, he shook his head. "I wouldn't be surprised if Serge served you three burnt meals for an entire month." Dandre appeared to want to say something again but Treville's finger was faster. Wagging it back and forth he finally pointed to the door. "Out. Now. Before I change my mind and give you three palace duty for the rest of the month." If there was anything guaranteed to make a Musketeer move faster it was to threaten them with the tedious job of standing in place while King Louis prattled on with his guests.

Amused, despite the circumstances, Athos settled back into his chair again. "Charles, you are certain you are not hurt?"

"I'm fine, papa Thos." Charles sat down cross-legged on the floor beside all his toys he had brought along. "Was just worried about Serge."

"But he told you he was not hurt?" Athos had to make sure for the Garrison wouldn't be the same if the old man had been.

"Serge might be sore later." Pausing, Charles glanced sideways at the captain. "He was glad it didn't happen to Captain Treville." Seeing the older officer raising his brows at him, Charles ducked his head.

"I'm happy it wasn't me too," Treville muttered under his breath. Noting mirth dancing in Athos' blue eyes, Treville rolled his.

"Ah," Athos chuckled. "Will make a fine story to tell Aramis and Porthos later."

"I'm sure," Treville snorted. "Now let us both get back to work."


	28. Chapter 28

_Several days later after the sledding incident_

_*Royal Palace - throne room*_

Conversing with several nobles who had appointments with him, along with Cardinal Richelieu's presence, King Louis lost his train of thought several times over every time he glanced near the entrance where his Musketeers stood guard.

"Pardon, sire," Richelieu gently cleared his throat, trying to gain the young monarch's attention. "Your mind appears to be elsewhere."

"Forgive me, Cardinal." King Louis tried to regain focus. "What were we discussing again?" Why was the cardinal rolling his eyes in that manner?

It was then that Comte de la Fontaine entered the room, intent on joining His Majesty. Not taking more than two steps, he did a double take at the Musketeers standing guard. Then amusement filled him upon noting the newest addition to King Louis' regiment.

Bending down, hands on his knees, de la Fontaine's smile grew wider. "Hello there, Charles." He wasn't positive if the toddler remembered him from the Christmas festivities held here. Knowing his name could be a mouthful for the child, he made it easier for him. "Remember me? I'm Marcel a friend of the captains."

Standing at attention, alongside his papa Mis and Porth, Charles was a picture of perfection in his Musketeer uniform. Glancing up at his papa Mis, who was the closest to him, he received a nod in turn that it was all right to acknowledge the stranger. Sticking his own hand out, Charles shook the gentleman's. "I sort of remember you, sir."

Straightening up, de la Fontaine grinned. "Tis fine. There were an awful lot of people in attendance that night. Even I don't remember everyone there." His words earned him answering smiles from the two Musketeers. "I must say, Charles is a well mannered garcon." He noted the look of pride reflected in Porthos' and Aramis' faces.

"He's always been that way," Athos drawled, limping into the throne room, cane in hand. His voice carried how proud he was of his son as well.

"I wasn't present at the gift giving," de la Fontaine remarked. "But Queen Anne made me aware of what all of you had planned for the petit." Gazing down upon the youngster's head, adorned with a chapeau which was an exact replica of King Louis' soldiers, he couldn't get over it. "May I say, young Charles," his voice filled with sincerity, "that you cut a fine figure standing there." The petit's blue cloak was thrown over one shoulder, exposing the lad's pauldron.

Dipping his head at the compliment, Charle's beamed up at the gentleman. "Merci."

"Athos." Appearing perplexed for but a moment as de la Fontaine stared at the lieutenant, he tapped his chin. "Why are you here at all? Surely King Louis doesn't demand one of his best men to stand guard with an injury such as yours?"

He shouldn't have been surprised at the concern he heard in the comte's voice. After all de la Fontaine had tended to all of their injuries when they had been attacked on the road. Uncomfortable at the attention, Athos found himself leaning on his cane more than usual. "His Majesty wanted me to be in attendance today," he grumbled.

Hobbling over to where an ornate desk was situated near the entrance, Athos eased himself into the empty chair. Relief to be off his feet was quite evident in Athos' face. "As you can see, Comte, I have been provided a different venue." Catching the amused smirk from the other man, Athos pulled the brim of his chapeau further down to cover his eyes.

Before de la Fontaine left their side, he noted Cardinal Richelieu making his way toward them. There was an odd look on His Eminence's features.

"Ah, Comte. I am glad you are finally here now." Glancing over his shoulder Richelieu grimaced catching sight of the king. "His Majesty's attention has been wavering." He threw an accusing look down at Charles, as if the tyke was personally responsible and had done it on purpose. But Richelieu had to admit the petit looked adorable. "Why couldn't it have been a Red Guard's uniform," he muttered under his breath.

Snapping his head to the side where the comte stood, after hearing the man's uncomplimentary snort, Richelieu arched a brow. Stabbing a finger in the air impatiently, once more he glanced down at the tot. "Louis is woefully neglecting matters of state."

"Are you blaming Charles for that, Cardinal?" De la Fontaine tried hard not to laugh when Richelieu's face flushed red.

"Am I in trouble?" Lips trembling, Charles glanced up into Cardinal Richelieu's unhappy features.

"Oh Mon Dieu!" Swiftly turning around, marching away grumbling to himself, Richelieu left them all.

"I believe the cardinal's more upset about your son's attire than with Louis' lack of attention," de la Fontaine whispered into Porthos' ear.

"'E likes the whelp though."

"Cardinal Richelieu would like Charles even better if the garcon wore the colors of the Red Guard instead." Chuckling, de la Fontaine dipped his head at the inseparables and went over to join the king.

"Is the cardinal mad at me?" His chocolate, brown eyes were filled with worry. "Because I like him," Charles chewed on his lip. "Don't want him to be angry."

"Kid's gonna keep harpin' on that for awhile now," Porthos grunted to his brother.

"Do not concern yourself so, Charles," Athos deep voice carried over to the poppet, from where he sat.

Still biting his lip, Charles slowly nodded in acceptance. "Maybe no one's kissed him on the cheek today," he commented innocently, wondering why his papas scrunched up their faces that way. "I feel good when all of you kiss me there."

"'Ow ya wanna explain that one ta 'im, Mis." Shoulders shaking with silent laughter, Porthos could only share amusement with his brothers.

"Ummmm," Aramis hesitated, not sure how to phrase this, "one does not just kiss the cardinal on the cheek."

"Nah, runt," Porthos said. "Ya kiss 'is hand instead." Knowing that puzzled Charles even more he added, "It's a sign of respect."

His three year old mind was trying to understand the difference. "Kisses are better on the cheek though."

"And elsewhere," Aramis murmured quietly so only Porthos could hear. Wondering how they could steer Charles away from the subject of _kisses,_ the petit did it for them.

Very happy to be with his papas in the palace, so that Charles could show off his uniform, there was one thing bothering him. "Papa Mis," he kept his voice down, "how long do we stand here?"

"Til His Majesty leaves." Going to say more Porthos clamped his mouth shut when he caught sight of Athos glowering over at them.

Realizing Charles didn't understand why Athos was glaring at them, Aramis explained it to their pup. Leaning down, he spoke to the top of his son's head. "When on duty we're really not supposed to talk."

Eyes wide, Charle's mouth formed a perfect *O* of surprise. So that's why none of his papas were laughing or joking with him or one another. Thinking it a stupid rule, he would tell King Louis what he thought of it. Then remembering, abeit late, Charles wondered what happened to Alex. She had been with him when entering the throne room.

++++

Dark eyes alight with merriment, King Louis observed the cardinal desperately batting at his red cape. None of the nobles in attendance had caught sight of petite Alex winding her way in and out between the Richelieu's legs. It seemed to be her favorite past-time sport whenever the cardinal was in her vicinity. Then next Alex had the nerve to attack the cardinal's cape. Trying to crawl up it, but continuing to slide right back down, she wasn't making much headway. The others probably thought Richelieu was suffering some sort of malady, as he kept wildly swatting his hands behind him. The cardinal's efforts only succeeded in making Alex cling tenaciously to his cape.

When de la Fontaine caught sight of the kitten clinging for dear life onto His Eminence's cape, he could not contain himself any longer. Letting out a great bellow of laughter, he was joined by King Louis. The other nobles were simply confused by it all, having somehow missed out on seeing the marmalade ball of fluff.

Not enjoying being the brunt of the king's and comte's sense of humor, Richelieu managed to finally reach back enough to catch the petite culprit. Pulling Alex away from his, now very snagged, cape he held her up in the air. Nose to nose they stared at each other. "Words fail me. Truly they do." When she purred in that way of hers, Richelieu couldn't stay mad at Alex for overlong. He remembered when she had done this before to him. Apparently one shouldn't expect a kitten to learn her lessons well, if at all. Upon noting the noble's lips twitching he huffed out a short breath, turned his backs on them all, and headed for Charles.

Approaching the child, Richelieu placed Alex on top of Charle's shiny pauldron. Not saying a word he pointed just a single finger at the kitten's sweet face. Then, with a swirl of his cape, Richelieu left them. Leaving behind the cutest pair to join the king's service.

"Ya know this wasn't a great idea of 'is Majesty's," Porthos whispered out the side of his mouth to Aramis.

"King Louis said he wanted to see Charles in full uniform today." Smiling down at his son, Aramis winked at the lad. "With Louis having meetings most of the day this was what he suggested."

Hobbling back over to his brothers, Athos' lips thinned. "What part of _no speaking_ do either of you not understand?"

"My fault," Porthos admitted, frowning at the arch of Athos' one brow. Always a sure sign that his brother was irritated with him.

"What's your excuse, Aramis?" Tapping his cane on the floor, Athos waited impatiently.

"It wouldn't be polite for me to ignore my friend when he talks to me." Eyes twinkling, Aramis noted both of Athos' brows rising together in tandem.

"Papas," Charlies hissed. " _Shoosh!_ " He placed a finger over his own lips, scowling up at them.

"Gentlemen," Athos drawled, a slight smile threatening to break out on his face, "I believe we have all been suitably put in our place."


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh yes, Serge gets it again.
> 
> ++++

_Garrison courtyard_

Old man winter finally caught up with Paris in the past week, as heavy snowfalls blanketed the area. When it dwindled down to occasional snow showers, some came out to play. In this case it was Constance and Charles. The toddler’s papas were engaged in training prospective recruits. Even though the weather had turned harsh, there was a building that had been constructed for such purposes when the inclement elements turned against the soldiers. It was inside there where the Musketeers could hold their practice sessions.

Since Queen Anne didn’t need her services today, Constance thought this was a perfect time for her and Charles to build a snowman. Gone was the uniform Charles had become so attached too. In its place, he wore his warmer winter clothing. Likewise, Constance wore her red, fur-lined cape with its hood fitted snugly over her titian head, along with high winter boots up to her knees. They had been at it for nearly an hour and thought they had made the perfect snowman, or so they believed, until Aramis joined them.

“Mmmmm,” Aramis hummed, studying the snowman. “I approve of you using buttons for his face and chest, Constance,” Looking down upon his son, Aramis winked. “I gather Serge was in a good mood and let you have the crooked carrot for his nose?”

“Uh huh,” Charles blinked up at him. “I was afraid he’d say no because of me hitting him with my sled.”

“But Serge told you he wasn’t mad, mon petit.” Brushing some snow off Charle’s face, Aramis went back to assessing the snowy creation. Tapping his chin, he continued to stare at it. “I must say he’s not dressed properly for the cold.”

“It’s a _snowman_ , papa Mis.” Not understanding why his papa had said that. “Snowmen are used to it.”

“Ah, mon coeur,” Aramis purred softly to his son, “no self-respecting snowman would be caught out in weather such as this without the proper attire.”

“You act as if it were a live person, Aramis,” Constance huffed, trying to decide whether or not to slap him in the face. Preferably with snow.

Puzzled himself Charles glanced at Constance, the latter rolling her eyes with an indulgent smile toward his papa Mis.

“I beg to differ, mademoiselle.” Snapping his fingers, Aramis winked at them both. “Give me but a moment and I shall return.” He quickly rushed away, heading toward the area where other Musketeers were holding their practices.

Shaking her head, Constance lightly shrugged at Charles. “I have no idea what your papa’s up to." She observed Aramis disappearing into the building, wondering what he would come up with this time.

Five minutes later Aramis came back with a bundle in his hands. Blowing out a chilled breath, he unwrapped his findings. “Fortunately for us I remembered that some of our old uniforms were being thrown away.” Plopping a dilapidated Musketeer chapeau on the snowman, Aramis tilted it just so, giving it a roguish quality. Throwing an equally shoddy blue cloak around its shoulders the snowman now had character. Still there was one thing missing. Wrapping a colorful, ratty old scarf around its neck finished the overall effect. Sweeping his chapeau from his head Aramis bowed, standing close to the snowman. "Voila!"

Giggling, Charles clapped his hands in delight, likewise Constance did the same. "It's great, papa Mis!"

"Didn't know you had it in you, Aramis." Laughing at him when he threw an arm around the snowman, as if they were bosom buddies, Constance drew closer. "I think our snowman is quite the charmer." Sliding her eyes toward Aramis' smug features, she placed a hand on Charle's shoulder. "But since he stands in the Garrison courtyard I believe he should be armed." Seeing Aramis hanging his head down, Constance nearly pumped her fist in the air. _YES!_ Gotcha!

"We used branches for arms, papa." Mulling Constance's idea over, Charles had to agree. "Couldn't you find an old sword or something?"

Scratching at his beard, and not wanting to let the youngster down, Aramis continued to stare at the snowman until he came up with another idea. "I may have the exact thing." Walking away he threw over his shoulder, "Never fear I shall return."

"Maybe I shouldn't have said anything." Second guessing herself, Constance frowned at the petit as they both shared looks of concern. Then her worry was momentarily set aside, when Alex popped out from her warm nest inside Charle's heavy winter coat. Tongue poking out, Alex tried to catch the white flakes lightly coming down. Watching this, Constance's heart felt lighter.

"Our snowman should have something to defend the king." Chin jutting out stubbornly, Charles thought if papa Mis couldn't find anything then maybe his other papas could. Feeling something warm tickling the bottom of his chin, Charles glanced down at his pet who was licking at it trying to get his attention. "I'm not ignoring you, Alex. But this is important." Noting her head tilting to the side as if listening to him, Charles thought perhaps Alex had understood.

"See, Charles, Aramis is coming back." Noting he carried something that looked like it had seen better days, Constance wrinkled up her nose. "What happened to it?" For it was a sword, she could see that much now that Aramis held it up.

"Time and old memories happened." Eyes darkening with sorrow for but a moment then just as quickly disappearing, Aramis flashed Constance his trademark smile. Looking down upon the neglected sword, his smile faded. Feeling another hand touch the one that held the sword, he was pulled away from his heavy thoughts.

"It was from _then_." She had been privy to the inseparable's pasts, or at least what they dared tell her. Constance knew that out of the three Porthos' first name wasn't a fabrication, even if Aramis and Athos hid behind theirs. It had been Captain Treville that had told her about Savoy, and she realized that there were still times when Aramis was overcome by that tragic event. Gently removing the sword from his grip, her eyes were sympathetic. "I think it suits Monsieur Snowman perfectly." Handing it over to Charle's care, Constance noted the tyke hang the sword on one of the branches. Dangling by the hilt, it gently swayed back and forth in the wind.

" _YAY!_ " Dancing around their creation, Charles then hugged his papa. "Merci!" Then he went back to running around the snowman again.

"Mon coeur," laughing at the picture Charles presented, going around in circles, Aramis reached out and snagged his son by the arm, "you are going to make Alex ill." For he had seen the tiny head disappearing inside Charle's coat.

"Oh! I didn't think." It was then that Charles heard Alex mewling her displeasure. "I'm sorry, Alex." He dropped a kiss upon her head, tucking her in close to his heart where she'd stay nice and warm.

"All right." Rubbing his hands together, Aramis glanced around the courtyard. "Aside from us tis unusually quiet around here."

"We're the nutty ones being outside in this weather," Constance remarked. "But there is something else we could do." She and Charles had spoken about this earlier before leaving her house today. So with a long look at the petit garcon, sending Charles a silent signal, they simultaneously grabbed a handful of snow from the ground. Quickly packing it together they pelted Aramis from front and back.

"Hey! Hey! Hey!" Protecting himself from getting smacked in the face, Aramis huffed. "You both wound me!" he whined. "Wasn't I helpful in outfitting your snowman?"

" _OUI!_ " Charles and Constance shouted out together, both armed with fresh snowballs.

"But we need another diversion now," Constance teased, eyes sparkling with life.

Spotting Athos and Porthos approaching, Aramis waved them over. Turning to face Constance and his poppet, he smirked. "We'll make up teams now that reinforcements have arrived."

"I want Constance and papa Thos!" Charles began jumping up and down with excitement. It caused Alex to timidly peek out from her safe haven once again, to find out what the commotion was all about. Giggling, Charles gently pushed her back inside his coat.

Quickly explaining what was going on to his brothers, Aramis shoved a very reluctant Athos toward where their petit and Constance stood.

Frowning, Porthos glared at his friend. "There's three of 'em and only two of us," his deep voice rumbled.

"Ah! But, Porthos, mon frere," Aramis laughed gayly, "you alone make up for two people." Noting the larger man didn't seem to appreciate his logic, Aramis dragged Porthos over to hide behind an unused wagon.

++++

"Do you two have a plan of strategy?" Looking into two sets of blank faces, Athos should have expected that type of response.

"Tis a simple snowball fight." Punching Athos in the arm, Constance rolled her eyes. "We're supposed to have fun." She punched him in the arm again.

"Can I throw my snowball now, Constance?" Eyes darting from his papa to Constance and back again, Charles was tired of waiting plus he was afraid his snowball would melt.

"Let 'em have it!" Aiming hers at Aramis' head Constance missed, splatting her snowball against the wagon.

As Athos warmed up to the prospect of seeing his brother's faces covered with wet snow, he showed Charles how to make a proper snowball. Then the barrage truly began. Proudly Athos watched the garcon's aim improve with each throw, to the point Charles nearly hit Porthos in the face. "Very good, mon ange."

While the battle was being waged Ancil, Dandre and Baptiste were coming out of the canteen. Upon hearing an outraged roar, their hands instinctively reached for their swords. But when they noted Porthos was hiding behind a wagon along with Aramis being bombarded with snowballs, they all looked at each other with silly expressions upon their faces.

"There's Charles!" Pointing out the tot who was hiding behind Athos and Constance, Dandre laughed.

"Let's join them." Ancil waved his brothers forward.

"Taking cover behind this horse trough isn't what I would call a sound plan," Baptiste snorted.

"Tis the only thing close enough to the wagon." Ducking his head, Athos narrowly missed being hit by the white projectile Porthos threw his way.

"I say we sneak attack from behind." Exchanging gleeful looks with Baptiste and Ancil, Dandre ushered his brothers away.

"Think it will work, Athos?" Grinning, Constance helped Charles make some more snowballs.

"It may and then again it may not."

"So decisive," she giggled, handing Athos a snowball.

++++

" _ARAMIS!_... _PORTHOS!_..." Treville barked then spluttered when he got hit on the back of his head with a stray snowball, completely knocking off his chapeau. This was not on his agenda for the day. Kneeling behind the wagon, he glanced at both of his men. "You are outnumbered."

"Tell us somethin' we don't know, Captin'," Porthos grunted, swiping at his face. Constance had a mean aim.

"I must be losing what's left of my mind," Treville muttered, gathering snow into his hands. Hearing Aramis' amused snort, he glared at him. But before he could even lift a hand to target his quarry, Treville was pelted from behind. Twisting around he spotted three smiling idiots standing on the balcony to his office. " _DANDRE! ANCIL! BAPTISTE!_ " he hollered. "What the deuce do all of you think you're doing up there?"

"Helping our friends, Captain!" Ancil laughingly yelled back.

"Six to our three," Aramis mused. "Not good odds."

It was then Treville noted Germain, Paul and Merle come out of the canteen. Wildly waving his arms he caught their attention, motioning for them to come over. Looking back at Aramis and Porthos, Treville's blue eyes danced. "I believe our odds have considerably improved." When the others joined them, he pointed out their opposition. While those three took care of the men on the balcony, Treville wouldn't have to worry upon other distractions.

++++

Crossing the courtyard, Serge was heading toward the canteen. Once again his arms were full, carrying bags full of food stuffs for his kitchen. Serge wasn't aware that he was innocently walking into a war zone, until he had the misfortune to get hit in the face with a snowball that felt more like a huge lump of ice. Stunned, Serge lost his balance and fell backwards down into the cold layers of snow. His bags didn't fare any better than he had as items were scattered all around. Laying there, staring up at the snowflakes falling down upon him, Serge swore. "I don't damn well believe this happened again!"

"Oh no!" Covering his eyes, Charles huddled close to papa Thos.

Noting old Serge on his back, Athos winced. He wasn't sure what Constance was doing, with her hands covering her mouth. She was either horrified or stifling amusement. "First the sled knocks him for a loop..."

"Now he gets felled by a snowball," Constance giggled out.

Everyone paused upon observing Serge slowly stand back up, brushing himself off. Trudging over to where Athos, Constance and Charles were, none of them were certain what Serge was planning to do.

"Who threw that one at me?" Eyeing the toddler closely, Serge bent down to get on the child's level. "Was it you, Charles?"

"Non," Charles squeaked. Having impeccable timing, Alex stuck her head out. Mewling softly, she blinked her black eyes up at Serge.

"I'm an old softy is what I am," Serge grouched, reaching out to stroke the kitten's fur. Straightening up he looked around him and was shocked to see Captain Treville a part of these shenanigans. Seeing the guilty flush steal over the captain's face, Serge's eyes narrowed. Turning back to Athos he asked, "Got room for one more?"

Charles, Athos and Constance were overjoyed to include another in their number.

" _EH, CAPTIN'!_ " Serge shouted. " _I AIM TA GET BACK AT YOU FOR THAT ONE!_ "

++++

"Mon Dieu!" Treville glared at Porthos and Aramis. "Tell me why I'm doing this again?" Niether of his men had an answer for him. Holding up a warning finger he added, "None of this gets back to the king." When he heard a voice from behind, Treville swung around to encounter a familiar face.

"So this is what you do for fun around here," Marcel chuckled. "Does Louis know about your extracurricular activities?"

Scowling up at his old friend, Jean-Armand hissed, "Don't just stand there looking pompous!"

"Does that mean I'm drafted into your regiment?" Still laughing Marcel hunkered down between Aramis and Jean-Armand.

"Oh shut up do!" Jean-Armand snapped. "Make snowballs and get on with it!"

"Whom are we fighting?" Marcel couldn't keep a straight face.

"Constance, Charles, Athos and now Serge." Aramis pointed over toward the horse trough.

"Mmmmm," Marcel hummed. "Doesn't seem quite fair if you ask me." When all three heads turned to gawk at him, he emphasized his point. "A young woman, a child, an old man and a single Musketeer."

"Trust me," Porthos growled. "Constance is the one we should be worried about."

"And Serge is so angry I doubt he'll miss his mark," Jean-Armand admitted to his friend.

"Athos' aim is nothing to sniff at either," Aramis added, with a shudder that wasn't quite from the chilly air.

"What about young Charles?" Marcel began making snowballs.

"Kid's got all three of 'em ta teach 'im proper."

Gripping the snowball he just made, Marcel glanced at his friend. "I have found much to my delight this visit anything but dull. Now I can add snowball fighting to my repertoire."

"Marcel," Jean-Armand arched one brow, "throw the damn snowball!"

++++

The volley of snowballs never ceased as they went back and forth between the two groups.

Throwing another one Charles watched it connect with his papa Porth' head. Pleased he glanced at papa Thos getting a thumbs up from him.

"Good shot, mon ange," Athos chuckled noting Porthos' snowcovered hair.

"Porthos is starting to resemble our snowman more and more," Constance laughed, throwing hers next and hitting Aramis square in the face.

"Papa Thos," holding another snowball in his hand Charles started to have second thoughts, because it seemed to him that his other papas didn't appear happy, "papa Mis and papa Porth won't get mad at me will they?"

Hugging his son close, Athos smiled. "They're just mad that our aim is better than theirs."

A huge grin split Serge's face. " _THIS ONE'S GOT YOUR NAME ON IT, CAPTIN!_ " Watching his snowball knock the captain's chapeau off again, he grumbled. "It was close but I was hoping to get him in the face."

The battle went on for well over a half an hour when Treville decided to surrender, waving a white handkerchief in the air.

"Hey, everyone, look!" Since living in Paris, Constance found that her trust wavered in her fellow man. It wasn't unusual then, for her to wonder what the opposition was playing at. Glancing at Athos, she waited to see what he would do. "A trick do you think?"

"Non," Athos shook his head. "Did you not see Rene running over to the captain?" Not getting a response from her, he figured Constance hadn't. "In the heat of battle many things can go unnoticed," Athos pointed out. "More than likely Treville has business to attend."

"I ain't movin' from this spot til I know it's safe!" Serge held a snowball in each hand, ready to fight to the death if needs must.

"You don't trust the captain?" Looking at the older man, Charles bit his lip.

"He did knock me off my feet," Serge huffed. "Can't put much faith in a person that does that even if that man is the head of the Garrison."

"I for one am going to accept." Athos threw his arsenal of snowballs to the ground. With one look at his moppet and Constance they soon followed suit.

Running over to his other papas Charle's eyes roamed their faces. "Ooooh, your skin's all red."

"Yours would be ta, runt," Porthos grouched, "if'n ya been hit with as many snowballs as we 'ave."

"Why did you give up so easily?" Arching a delicate brow of her own, Constance smirked.

"Captain Treville had to go to the palace," Aramis said with a light shrug. "Besides, tis as good excuse as any to call a halt since my body has long since gone numb."

"Yeah," Porthos' frosty breath blew out, "I'm chilled from the inside out too."

"Let's all go to the canteen for some hot chocolate," Constance suggested taking Aramis by the arm. Patting him on the chest, she laughed. "Losers buy."

"I love hot chocolate!" Jumping up and down again, Charles couldn't wait to warm up with it.

"Okay, kid," Porthos lifted the whelp up onto his shoulders. "I could go for some as well."

"You have a most formidable team, Athos," Comte de la Fontaine remarked as they all set off for the canteen.

"Which one, Comte?" Athos pulled the brim of his chapeau lower, staring into the older man's amused eyes.

"Ah!" Giving all the appearance that he had to think that one over, de la Fontaine eventually slapped Athos on the back. "You are a lucky man."

With a twinkle in his blue eyes, Athos dipped his head. "I know."


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since I"ve had this story set in wintertime right now it doesn't seem right for me to jump clear to the Easter season for what I wanted to write next. As the next few chapters will be dealing with season one's second episode "Sleight of Hand", you'll see changes I had to make.
> 
> Also warning for some angst coming up for all concerned.
> 
> ++++

_A month later - Royal Palace_

Finished fixing Anne's hair, Constance stood back to admire her handiwork. "Mmmm," she hummed quietly. "I believe it will do."

Laughing, Anne's blue eyes sparkled. "Your work will always _do_ , mon amie."

Dropping her head, Constance managed a graceful curtsey.

Tapping her friend on the shoulder with a fan, Anne gazed at the younger woman fondly. Shaking her head tendrils of blonde hair came loose from a diamond studded comb secured on the back. "I shall have none of that now while you are in my company."

"Are you sure you should keep doing this?" Worrying her lower lip, Constance never agreed with Anne's visits to the Chatelet. She didn't understand how King Louis allowed it. He should put his foot down. Better yet, why wasn't he the one going instead? It didn't matter to Constance how many Musketeers and Red Guard were there for Anne. As far as she was concerned it should be the king granting clemency and releasing the prisoners. Not putting Anne at risk. But knowing her words fell on deaf ears before, there was nothing more Constance could do to sway her friend.

"I shall be fine." Noting Constance's eyes were filled with grave concern, Anne reached out to hug her. "Now where is my petit protector?"

"Charles is currently occupying himself with one of his new board games we brought along." Staring at the table where the garcon sat, Constance watched the toddler concentrating on his next move while he explained his strategy to Alex.

"After seeing me to my carriage you will be returning back here, Constance," Anne briefly glanced at the child with his pet. "He shall be fine on his own until then." Walking over to the tot she dropped a light kiss upon Charle's head.

Tilting his head up, Charles smiled at her. "Do you want to play too?" he frowned down at Alex. "I don't think she's getting the hang of it."

"I have to leave right now, petit, but when I come back you can teach me, eh?" Tickling his chin, Anne's heart was gladdened hearing Charle's lighthearted giggling.

"I'm going to see her off, Charles, and then I'll be coming back." Noting the tyke nod his head, Constance followed Anne to the door. "There are Musketeers just outside this door if you need anything." The petit imp was back to being engrossed in his game. Hoping that Charles had been paying attention, she quietly closed the door behind her.

The minute the door clicked shut Charles bounded out of his chair, leaving a curious Alex behind mewling softly at the abrupt interruption of their game. "I have to make sure Queen Anne doesn't get hurt, Alex." Quickly he threw on his winter outerwear, hurriedly putting them on. "After all I'm an honorary Muskyteer and tis part of my job."

The guards outside were oblivious to what Charles was doing, having no idea there was a hidden passageway in the queen's chambers. They wouldn't know he had disappeared until it was too late to do anything about it.

++++

_Outside the palace_

Using his three year old wits, Charles chose his moment while the guards were distracted busying themselves with making sure Queen Anne was secured in the carriage. Managing to tuck himself inside a small back compartment just his size, that had been made for extra luggage, Charles was proud of himself. Now all he had to do was wait until the carriage made its stop at the Chatelet.

Placing her hand on top of the one Anne had resting on the rim of the carriage window, Constance gave it a gentle squeeze. "Be careful of your surroundings and if you become too chilled I'd advise leaving it for another time."

With a gentle smile, Anne returned the gesture. "Ever my most faithful friend and companion. I shall heed your words." Tugging her own fur-lined cloak about her slim frame she signaled the driver to set out.

Hands clenched tightly by her sides, Constance had a bad feeling wash over her watching the carriage disappear from view.

++++

_Chatelet_

"When the queen arrives," Treville marched up and down in front of his men, including the inseparables," you do not leave her side for one second!" Looking each soldier in the face, he could see the uneasiness of his own feelings rolling off his Musketeers in waves. Even the Red Guard, the cardinal had graciously loaned him, appeared more than worried. Never having been able to talk the young monarchs out of, what Treville had always thought of as lunacy, he could only do what he could do. Which was protect them with every fiber of his being, even if it meant his death and that of his men.

Waiting for Her Majesty's carriage to arrive, Treville grew all the more anxious, wanting her visit already over and done with. There were too many variables to consider. Too many things that could go terribly awry. It wouldn't matter to King Louis who was at fault if something awful were to happen to Queen Anne, it would be Treville's head on the block. Not that he would care for his life would have no meaning if such an event would ever happen on his watch. The king would be more than justified in having Treville hung for failing in his duties to the crown.

Finally seeing the gates to the Chatelet open, Treville made sure all was ready. Musketeers and Red Guard both had already taken up their positions, ready for almost anything. When the carriage slowed, coming to a halt, Treville opened the door to help the young queen out.

"Are the prisoners to be released outside yet?" Looking around the courtyard of the Chatelet, Queen Anne saw no sign of them.

"I felt it prudent to wait for your arrival first before having them removed from their cells." Nodding his head to the inseparables, Treville waiting until they surrounded her. "I will be but a moment," he bowed. Walking over he talked briefly to one of the prison guards and returned to the queen's side. "Now if you will follow me, Your Majesty."

The procession came to a halt in the center of the grounds while they awaited the prisoners who were to receive clemency this day. As the rough, grungy looking troupe of individuals marched out of the Chatelet they all blinked their eyes against the bright rays of the sun, having not seen daylight for some considerable time.

Stepping forward Queen Anne gave them all a smile of kindness. "As you have been made aware all of you are to receive your freedom this day." Without breaking eye contact she held out her right hand, waiting for Captain Treville to place a pouch of coins into it. "Along with a small sum to help you start over."

++++

While this was going on outside, inside the prison walls the notorious anarchist republican Vadim was breaking out. Though not from the goodness of his heart he released most of the other prisoners, at best they would be used as a distraction during his escape.

++++

In the midst of handing out money to the prisoners, Queen Anne paused upon hearing what sounded like a riotous commotion. Suddenly she was being shepherded away from the scene, heavily covered by her Musketeers.

" _GET THE QUEEN TO SAFETY!_ " yelled out Athos as he pulled out his musket, heading for the Chatelet.

Taking up position on a balcony Aramis aimed his harquebus carefully, targeting prisoners as they escaped. Shooting only when necessary.

While his friends were taking care of business, Porthos took lead with the rest of the Musketeers in fighting off the other prisoners that thought they had a chance of escaping.

Meanwhile Charles had already come out of his hiding place to follow after Queen Anne. In his childish thoughts he figured that once his appearance was made known his papas would let him stay. This way Charles could make sure of Her Majesty's safety for himself.

What he hadn't counted on was walking into a prison break. Still that's what Charles encountered upon catching up to her, the Musketeers and Red Guards. Noting his papas were all engaged in some manner of fighting Charles became frightened, not knowing what to do.

Trying to get Her Majesty back to the carriage, Treville glanced over his shoulder and thought he was seeing things. " _MON DIEU! CHARLES!_ "

Struggling against the captain's hold Queen Anne pushed against Treville's shoulder to stop them from moving any further. "What about Charles?" Following the direction of his gaze, she was horrified at seeing the petit garcon amidst all that chaos. " _CHARLES!_ " she screamed. " _DO SOMETHING, CAPTAIN! ANYTHING!_ "

Pushing the queen into the arms of the Red Guards and his Musketeers, Treville raced toward the youngster.

++++

Grinning at how the breakout was hiding his own escape, Vadim weaved his way through the throng knowing his own men were waiting for him outside the Chatelet. Having previously gotten word to them how and when he was going to make his move, he knew Felix would be ready and waiting.

Rushing toward the gates that were being closed, Vadim knew he didn't have much time to reach them. Seeing how there were still too many guards left there, even for him to overpower, he needed leverage of some sort. Looking over to his right, he found it. Unexpected but Vadim wouldn't question providence into dropping the child into his lap. While the soldiers looked in the other direction, Vadim ran over sweeping the garcon up into his arms. The petit struggled against him but was no match for his massive strength.

" _LET ME GO!"_ Charles shouted. " _MY PAPAS WILL MAKE YOU SORRY IF YOU DON'T!_ "

"I don't know who your papas are," Vadim chuckled. "But I very much doubt they'll be able to carry out your threat." Approaching the gates now he held the toddler up high so the Musketeers and Red Guard could see that, for today, Vadim held all the aces. " _OPEN THOSE GATES BACK UP OR THE CHILD DIES!_ "

++++

Having gathered up the inseparables on his mad dash toward rescuing Charles, Treville didn't bother telling them where he was headed. It wasn't until they were at the gates that all their hearts plummeted to the soles of their feet.

" _NON!_ " screamed out Athos. " _LET MY SON GO, YOU BATARD!_ " Many  hands held him back from surging forward, including those of his brothers Aramis and Porthos.

" _ATHOS!_ " Aramis hollered above the din. " _WE CAN'T RUSH HIM! HE MAY HURT, CHARLES!_ "

" _DON'T YA THINK... I WANNA 'AVE A PIECE... OF THAT SCUM?_ " Porthos was still breathing hard from dodging in-between guards and escapees to get here." _BUT I... DON'T WANNA RISK GETTIN'... OUR WHELP KILLED!_ "  


" _THE PETIT WILL GO FREE WHEN I FEEL LIKE IT!_ " Vadim grinned. " _NOW OPEN THE GATES!_ "

" _I'LL KILL YOU! I SWEAR I WILL!_ " Athos vowed vehemently, shoving his brothers off of him.

Watching while the gates slowly opened, the inseparables, Captain Treville and Queen Anne felt their world tilt when Vadim walked away with Charles.

Mounting on the horse Felix held for him Vadim settled the youngster in front, holding the toddler securely.  


"They'll come for me," Charles warned the bad man. As they rode away he caught sight of his papa's furious faces. "They'll come for me."


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some minor child shaking but it's very brief.
> 
> See notes below.
> 
> ++++

_Royal Palace - Queen Anne's chambers_

She couldn't find Charles anywhere in the room. "Charles, if this is your idea of hide and seek I do not care for it!" she snapped, trying to keep panic at bay. He couldn't have gone past the guards, she thought. Going on her knees, Constance looked under the bed. The tyke wasn't there trying to scare her out of her wits which meant that Charles was not in the room at all. Racing outside Constance rounded on the guards like a veritable virago. " _CHARLES IS GONE!_ " she nearly shrieked out her distress! " _WHERE WERE ALL OF YOU!_ " Constance didn't care that the two soldiers on duty looked at her as if she had gone mad, which is precisely what she felt like. Standing there with hands on her hips, her foot tapped impatiently on the tiled floor.

"Mademoiselle," Henri blinked owlishly at the young woman. "We have been here the entire time and the petit has not come out of the room."

"On our honor," gruffly added Simon.

Throwing out her hands, Constance simply stared at the two men. "Then where is he?" Right after her question, which she knew would go unanswered, Constance heard the sounds of someone running toward them. Turning around she was stunned to see Queen Anne rushing at her as if the hounds of hell were at her heels.

"Constance!" Anne cried out upon reaching her friend. Taking the young woman's hands into her own she squeezed them fiercely. "I need you to brace yourself for something terrible has occurred at the Chatelet."

Tugging her hands free, one went up to her mouth covering it in fright. "Charles," she whispered. Barely getting the name past her constricted throat, Constance felt slightly faint. "What happened?"

"You know how the petit garcon loves to believe he is my personal protector?" Waiting for Constance to register her words, Anne carried on. "We found out he must have smuggled himself in the storage compartment in back of my carriage."

"But how did Charles get out of your room? Both of the guards said he never left." In her befuddled state, Constance couldn't understand the petit's disappearance.

"Mon amie, he has been in my chambers numerous times with you and must have remembered where the mechanism was that opened the secret passage." Wishing now she had never divulged it while Charles had been there, Anne found fresh grief fill her once more.

"And so trouble found him at the Chatelet." Charles was always finding it, whether or not the tot looked for it. Not feeling as if her shaking legs would hold her up any longer, Constance needed to sit down. Anne must have feared that as well, when her friend led her back inside the queen's chambers to sit down upon the bed.

"There was a breakout while I was about to pardon some of the prisoners." Anne paused for a moment closing her eyes. "The man who instigated the escape I have since found out was known as Vadim. Apparently he had his own men ready and waiting for him at the gate."

"They took Charles didn't they?" Constance bowed her head, trying not to weep.

"Oui." Anne's lips tightened. "Using him as Vadim's way out."

"The inseparables, Mon Dieu!" Shooting up from the bed, Constance headed for the door but was stopped by a gentle hand upon her shoulder.

"They and Captain Treville are beside themselves with horror at what had happened." Anne's eyes filled with tears. "Our Charles is brave and will account himself well, Constance, have no doubt of that."

"I know," her lips trembled. "Has King Louis been told?"

"The captain and the inseparables are doing that as we speak. I wanted to be the one to tell you and then make sure you'd be all right." Hugging her friend close Anne spoke softly. "We will get our poppet back."

Hiding her face in Anne's shoulder, Constance's tears finally fell. "I know we will."

++++

_Throne Room_

" _MERE DE DIEU!_ " King Louis flung himself from his throne. "How could this have happened? Where was everyone while it did happen? And how did Charles come to be at the Chatelet in the first place?"

As the king fired off each question, like a barrage of musket fire, Treville tried to calm his own racing heart. "After later talking with Her Majesty we can only assume Charles used the secret passageway in her chambers. Because there is no other way he could have left without being noticed by the guards in attendance."

"Then somehow 'e got inta the queen's carriage," Porthos added glumly. He wanted to be pleased at his son's sneaky tactics, but right now all Porthos could feel was fear for the whelp.

"As to where everyone was, sire," Athos broke in, his voice rock steady despite the despair he felt, "Vadim arranged a prison escape."

"We were busy trying to control the situation," Aramis offered, standing stiffly at attention though his knees threatened to buckle at the thought of what their son may be going through without them by his side.

"'E was a smart one," Porthos growled. "'Ad his own men ready and waitin' for 'im outside the Chatelet's walls."

"Vadim took Charles using him as a human shield, knowing we wouldn't dare fire our weapons in fear of accidentally hitting the garcon." Athos' blue eyes veered away from the young monarch's.

"This is quite unacceptable!" King Louis glared at them all. "You will find this Vadim immediately!" 

Before anyone else could offer up a suggestion as where to start looking, the doors to the royal throne room burst open with Cardinal Richelieu making a dramatic entrance. His red cloak billowed out behind him as His Eminence strode to the dais.

"What is this nonsense I've been hearing about Charles being kidnapped?" Shooting a most severe look uponTreville and each of the inseparables, Richelieu stepped closer to the captain. "And being at the Chatelet?" Crossing his arms, he waited for a sensible answer. "I find this very hard to believe, gentlemen."

Treville found himself once again repeating what he and the others had just told the king. "We have feelers out to all our contacts."

"I left word with Flea at the Cour des Miracles." Sharing a hopeful look with his brothers, Porthos trusted her to come through for them. "She'll get 'er runners out on the streets right soon."

"Who is this Vadim character?" Having never heard of this criminal before, King Louis wanted to know what the man had done to land himself in the Chatelet in the first place.

"He could be best described as an anarchist and voleur, sire." Rubbing at his forehead, Treville felt his headache blossom further.

"Law and freedom without force," Richelieu murmured. "A true rebel then."

"Believing that governments and laws are not necessary," Athos bit out. It had taken the combined efforts of his brothers and Treville to keep him from throwing himself at Vadim, before the batard took off with Charles. He'll never forget how frightened his son looked as Vadim rode off with him.

Snapping fingers at his Red Guards, Richelieu signaled for them to come to him. "Spread the word to your fellow comrades. I want Charles found." Observing them quickly leave to do his bidding Richelieu's gaze then fell upon the inseparables. He could only imagine the hell they must be going through. 

"I want leaves canceled as of this very minute!" King Louis announced. "Every man available is going to help in our search. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal, Your Majesty," Treville bowed. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of his men's grim faces. If anything untoward happened to that child there would be hell to pay.

++++

_One of Vadim's hideouts in the poorer section of Paris_

"Merde!" Shaking his finger out, Felix glared murderously at the garcon. When Vadim began to laugh he turned on him in outrage. "That petit viper bit me!"

"What did you expect?" Still laughing Vadim held his sides. It had been most amusing watching Felix trying to tie the petit's hands. Seeing that the youngster was still unbound went to show how successful the child had been. "Let him be. There's no way he can run off."

Scowling at the brat, Felix stomped off muttering to himself about how they should have left the kid at the Chatelet.

"He used a bad word," Charles announced, which only earned him moderate laughter from the others remaining in the room.

"Vadim," Suzette wound her arms around his neck, "you've created your great escape so why don't you let the garcon go?"

Drawing her close in his arms Vadim kissed her sweet smelling neck. "Mmmmm, perhaps," he grinned against her soft flesh. "Then again perhaps not." Shooting a quick look back at the toddler, Vadim thought the child may be of use to him later.

Toying with a button on Vadim's opened shirt, Suzette tilted her head studying him with lazy eyes. "Have you decided on your next move."

"Most definitely." Letting her go, Vadim drew her over to a table where he had a set of plans laid out. Stabbing a finger at one point in particular, Vadim nodded at it. "We're going to rob the royal treasury in the Louvre."

"You always loved to do things in a big way, Vadim," Suzette purred. "But don't you think this may be a bit out of your reach?"

"Remember my specialty is to make my victims look the other way." Rolling a coin between his fingers Vadim then flipped it up in the air catching it on the way back down. "Felix already has the barrels of gunpowder hidden in a secure place just waiting for me to give the word when to move them into position."

"Make sure you pick out one of the queen's diamond studded necklaces as a souvenir for me while you're at it." Kissing Vadim passionately before she left, Suzette glanced back at the silent garcon sitting near the fireplace. Still thinking that Vadim should have released the youngster she swept out the door, knowing that it was Vadim's concern more than hers.

"I'm not afraid of you!" Charles had waited until the lady had left before finding his voice. "You're going to be very sorry you took me!"

Sitting on the edge of the lone table in the middle of the room, Vadim studied the petit. "Who do you belong too?"

"Papa Thos, papa Mis and papa Porth." Glaring at the man who dared kidnap him, Charle's chin jutted out. "They're Muskyteers!"

"Ah!" Vadim chuckled. "Am I supposed to be scared of them?"

"You should be!" Charles shot back, wishing he were back home with his papas. Even though Charles knew he was going to be punished for leaving the safety of the palace to follow the queen, it would be better than being here with this bad man.

Walking over to the garcon, Vadim leaned down. "They'll never catch me. I'm too slippery for them. I know ways of getting in and out of places that they never could find."

Getting up Charles landed an almighty kick to the giant's right knee. Smiling devilishly as Vadim began hopping around, Charles at least made it known he'd stand up to him.

"Nom de Dieu!" Vadim swore viciously, rubbing at his sore knee. Anger simmering, he reached out and began to shake the child who struggled against him. Slowly he came to his senses, finding amusement in the situation. "You may be more troublesome than you're worth, mon enfant terrible. But in the meantime you could prove highly entertaining."

Pulling away from him, Charles went back to sit near the fireplace. He wouldn't cry in front of this Vadim. Knowing that his papas would be looking for him, Charles stared into the flames.

++++

_Garrison - Stables_

"Aramis!" Having been trying to gain his brother's attention for the past five minutes, Porthos finally gave up. Placing both hands on the marksman's shoulders he gave them a vigorous shake. "Aramis! I've been tryin' ta talk ta ya."

Running his hands through his hair, red-rimmed eyes stared back into caring, dark brown ones. "Apologies." Fingering his crucifix he wore, Aramis' normal zest for life was sadly lacking. "My thoughts were dwelling on Charles."

"As are mine." Hands falling away from his friend, Porthos stared at the ground. "We're all worried."

"I fear what I may do if Vadim has hurt our son." Removing the saddle from Belle, Aramis threw it over the nearest post. "Everyone's concerned upon what Athos would do. I think they should worry themselves with how I'd react."

"Meanin' ya would kill the batard outright before our brother could get 'is hands on 'im?"

"What do you think, mon ami?"

"I think I wouldn't like to be Vadim when we catch up to 'im." Going to check on Roulette, Porthos glanced over his shoulder at Aramis. "Kid's gonna be okay. You do know that right?"

"From your mouth to God's ear, mon frere." Kissing his crucifix, Aramis thought upon the many ways he would make Vadim suffer if Charles were hurt.

++++

_Later, back at Vadim's hideout_

"Owwww!" Felix howled, shaking his hand out. "Kid bit me again!"

"Either he really dislikes you," Suzette pointed out, "or the garcon is hungry." She had returned with food for the men and was highly amused at the battle going on between Felix and their young captive.

"I wouldn't think the taste of your flesh would be an appetizing prospect for anyone, especially a child," Vadim chuckled. His knee still hurt but he wasn't going to tell the others what the petit had done.

"Very funny," Felix snarled. "If it were up to me I'd throw the brat into the Seine."

"Good thing then that it isn't up to you, Felix." Handing a plate of bread and cheese to the toddler, Vadim was surprised the garcon hadn't thrown it back in his face. But upon seeing how eagerly the petit was eating, it had probably been awhile since the youngster had had any food in his stomach.

Facing Felix again, Vadim took the man by the arm pulling him off to the side. His voice was low and dangerous. "I will decide when to release him and where. Remember that."

"I'll remember," Felix spat. "But I think you're making a huge mistake."

Watching him leave, Suzette joined Vadim at the table, sitting on his knees. "Felix is going to be a problem?"

"If Felix is not careful he may well find himself in the Seine instead of the child, ma chere." Kissing her Vadim shoved her off his knees smacking her playfully on the derriere.

Quietly eating his meal, Charles never took his eyes off the couple. Contemplating how he could make his escape, Charles nibbled on some cheese. It would be a nice surprise for his papas if he could get out on his own. With that thought floating around in his head, Charles happily finished his meal.

++++

_Translations for more uncommon verbage:_

_Mere de Dieu_ \- Mother of God  
_Nom de Dieu_ \- God damn it  
_Mon enfant terrible_ \- my terrible child

 _Batard_ \- bastard

_voleur - thief_


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spanking warning for this chapter.
> 
> See note at bottom too.
> 
> ++++

_Next day, early morning – Garrison, Captain Treville’s office_

After an exhausting night of scouring the Paris streets, the inseparables had to admit defeat. Their red-rimmed eyes and tired faces attested to their inner turmoil from a fruitless search for their son.

Nearly every Red Guard and Musketeer, not on duty protecting the young royals, had been split into shifts. This way the soldiers could search all the rat infested holes they could find round the clock.

“Any word yet?’ Running a hand through his disheveled hair, Athos slumped in his chair.

“I haven’t heard back from any of the units so far.” Treville’s gravelly voice filled the room. He too had little in the way of sleep. “In the meantime I suggest all of us try to get some rest.”

“How can we possibly _sleep_ when Charles is out there needing us!” Shooting up from his chair, Athos knocked it over to crash on the wooden floor. He could hardly see straight being so weary, which resulted in him nearly toppling over on the floor as well. Thankfully his two brothers kept him steady, holding Athos up between them.

“You do Charles no good continuing on the way you are, Athos,” Treville reasoned.

“We will take a short nap here at the barracks, Captain,” Aramis dipped his head. Afraid if he didn’t say anything the situation with Athos would escalate and his brother would later find himself regretting hastily spoken words of anger.

“I accept your compromise, gents.” Blowing out a long, slow breath, Treville was glad he didn’t have to pull rank to get them to obey. Knowing though that the inseparables wouldn’t have listened anyway. At least this left Treville feeling that he was somewhat still the man in charge.

“Ya ‘ear anyhin’", Porthos all but growled, “anythin’ at all ya send word right away.”

“Of course I will.” Watching all of them drag their sorry selves through the door, Treville stared longingly at his own cot. Perhaps a cat nap would do him some good as well.

++++

_Back at Vadim’s hideout_

Promising himself he was going to stay awake and look for a way out didn’t go as planned for Charles. He found his eyelids too heavy to keep up. Eventually they slid shut and stayed that way while he curled up on the floor near the warmth of the fireplace, huddled under and on top of a pile of thin blankets. Sleep had won the battle last eve, and now Charles was wide awake and eating breakfast that Suzette had fixed for them.

“How long you going to hold onto that brat?” Biting into a warm biscuit, Felix let the crumbs fall on the scuffed floor. As a tiny mouse ran out of its hidey-hole to investigate what had fallen it was then Felix kicked it away with his boot, taking pleasure in the squeaking noise the rodent emitted when its small body hit the wall.

“For as long as it remains fun.” Snatching the last biscuit from Felix’ greasy fingers, Vadim ate it with great enjoyment. Catching sight of the petit garcon’s angry face, that was centered on Felix, it struck him that he hadn’t taken time to find out the youngster’s name. Walking over to him Vadim knelt down on one knee. “What do they call you?”

Still feeling badly for the mouse, Charles wanted to do some physical damage to Felix to see how he liked that sort of treatment. So his voice was sharper than he had intended upon answering Vadim. “Charles!” he announced defiantly, expecting the huge man to take exception to his tone of voice.

“A sound name.” Understanding why the garcon was mad, Vadim chuckled. Reaching out to ruffle the toddler’s hair, he couldn’t say he was surprised when Charles jerked his head away.

“Kid don’t like you anymore than he does me.” Gloating, Felix wasn’t paying attention to how close he stood near the kid. When a heavy weight descended on his left foot, Felix was agonizingly reminded of his error. Grabbing his aching foot he let out a ferocious roar. Vadim’s laughter only added fuel to the ever increasing fire.

He had to hand it to Charles, the kid was brave to the point of recklessness. Where the petit found a brick to throw on poor Felix’ foot, Vadim didn’t know nor did he care. It was quite entertaining to watch the man hobbling about just as Vadim had last night, a victim of the child’s as well.

“Quit yer yowling, Felix.” Steering the limping man away from the tiny attacker, Vadim drew Felix over to the table pointing toward the map. “Move the gunpowder to that location right now.”

“Not before the kid learns not to mess about with me, Vadim!”

Noting how furious Charles had made the one called Felix, he cringed inside when the man approached him. “Stay away from me!”

“Should of thought of that before trying to cripple me, brat!” Lifting the struggling tyke up, Felix dodged the kid’s flying feet that were making a decent attempt at trying to kick his teeth out. Plopping down on the nearest chair he placed Charles over his knees. Swatting the youngster’s rear-end with a heavy hand, even Felix was impressed that the youngster hadn’t whimpered out his pain. Satisfied with the punishment he had dealt Charles, Felix pushed the tot off of him. Gaining his feet, Felix nodded at Vadim. “ _Now_ I’ll move the powder.”

Sniffling, Charles held back from crying. He didn’t want to appear weak in front of Felix. Thinking on what Vadim had told him, Charles hoped that an opportunity presented itself so he could escape and get back to his papas.

++++

_Slightly after the noonish hour – Garrison canteen_

“I’ve volunteered to go help search for young Charles.” Serge was serving the inseparables some lunch. By the looks of it, none of them appeared to have much appetite. “Try to eat a portion of it at least. Have to keep up your strength to find that petit of yours.”

Realizing Serge was only trying to make them feel better, Aramis obliged the older man and began cleaning his plate.

“Our thanks for lending your support in trying to locate our son.” Doing as Serge suggested, Athos too finished his meal.

“When ya goin’ out?” Dunking a hunk of bread into his thick beef stew, Porthos had to admit he was hungry.

“As soon as lunches have all been served I’ll be leaving.” He could see a deep sadness in their eyes, and Serge had nothing but compassion for what they were suffering. “Charles is a tough petit garcon. All of you have set a fine example for him to follow.” Shaking his head Serge added, “Don’t be surprised if the lad don’t up and find a way to get back to you all on his own.” Hurrying off to his kitchen, Serge left the inseparables alone with their own brooding thoughts.

“Think ‘e’s got the right of it?” Pushing aside his empty bowl, Porthos took a long hard look at his friends.

“Charles is resourceful when he wants to be,” Aramis offered, giving comfort to his brothers in the only way he knew.

“I don’t know which is worse.” Finished eating, Athos leaned back in his chair. “Thinking about our son being held captive by that voleur or worrying upon Charles making his own escape plans.”

“Remember, Athos,’ Aramis dared to grin, “we taught him well up to now. May I be so bold as to say that out of the entire regiment I believe our skills are by far the more superior ones?”

“Taught ‘em ta get inta more trouble ya mean,” Porthos snorted. Then a wide smile broke out on his face, remembering back to the things he had been teaching Charles. Things like pick-pocketing and the like. You never knew when skills of that sort would come in handy while on the king’s business. It would just conveniently be left out of the captain’s report when the time came.

“And how to get out of it, mon frere.” Studying Athos, Aramis was greatly concerned that his eldest brother’s dark thoughts would eventually overcome him if they didn’t find Charles soon. “Come,” he stood up. “Tis time for us to be back out there for our youngest.”

“Agreed." Leaving the table, Athos lead the way out of the canteen.

++++

_Late afternoon - underground tunnels near the Louvre_

"I've said it before and it bears repeating. Because of the monarchy's stupidity in not guarding these tunnels, they left themselves wide open to canailles like us." Vadim briefly glanced at Felix who stood near the gunpowder. “Instead King Louis wastes his Musketeers guarding those lavish soirees he throws. None of which I ever received an invitation too." Inspecting the barrels of powder Felix and the other men had set up, Vadim appeared satisfied. Good thing for him King Louis didn’t have the sense God gave a church mouse. It made it much easier for him to steal the young king blind. His own amusing thoughts even made Vadim laugh. The sounds echoed down the dark, damp tunnels.

"It should do the trick, Vadim." Felix wiped sweat from his forehead. Even though the winter chill was still with them, it had been hard work moving all those barrels down here.

"Ah!" Vadim gave a hearty laugh. " _Trick_ is indeed the key word."

"Make them look the other way." Grinning, Felix went over to speak with the others.

"Oui." Vadim would make sure the Musketeers and Red Guard would definitely be misdirected. "Won't they be in for a huge surprise?"

++++

_Outside The Jeweled Crown Tavern_

"Porthos," tapping his brother on the shoulder Athos stood back, arms folded, "how do you expect the man to give us any information when you have a stranglehold on his throat?" They had been inside the tavern for several minutes, when a stroke of luck came their way. Overhearing one of the patrons talking about Vadim, they were eager to interrogate him.

"Yeah you're right as usual," Porthos grunted, reluctantly releasing the poor sod. Leaning into the unfortunate man's frightened face, he still appeared threatening. "Talk or you'll get more of the same!"

"Word on the street is that Vadim's planning on killing Their Majestys." Fabrice struggled for breath, his throat still sore from the huge Musketeer's iron grip. "It's supposed to happen on the morrow."

Equally stunned, the inseparables gaped at one another upon hearing this devastating news.

Shaking in his shoes, for the three soldiers scared him to death, Fabrice stuttered out, "That's... that's all... I... I... really know."

"Let him go, Porthos." Observing the stranger scurry away, Athos contemplated what they had just learned.

"Should we take what he told us as gospel?” Uneasy, Aramis usually relied on his own instincts which were screaming out at him that something just didn't ring true.

"I fear at this juncture there's nothing for it but to believe him." Tugging his chapeau lower over his eyes, Athos fell into step beside Aramis and Porthos as they left the tavern.

++++

_Garrison - Captain Treville's office again  
_

Having apprised Captain Treville of what Vadim was supposedly up to, the inseparables listened dejectedly as the captain called a temporary halt in seeking Charles out.

"I know Charles is upper most in all our thoughts but with what you have uncovered it changes things." Feeling all but helpless in his decision to delay the search for the petit, Treville pinched the bridge of his nose. "Even though Their Majestys are beside themselves with worry over the lad's safety they couldn't get out of a commitment they had made to be present for a dedication ceremony in honor of King Henry."

"Mon Dieu!" When it rained it poured and Athos felt like the heavens had opened up and _poured_ entirely on his head. Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, his jaw clenched. "As if we do not have enough issues to deal with."

"Precisely." Giving an abrupt nod, Treville paced back and forth. "Their safety is our top priority."

"Tis snowing still," Aramis scratched his beard. "Rather a bad time for an outdoor ceremony... is it not?"

"Tis what I asked the king," Treville huffed. "It was a proposal posed by one of Louis' council members and of course he thought it a grand idea."

"Couldn't the queen talk him out of it?" Athos asked. "Especially now with Charlies missing."

"From what I understood Her Majesty had tried." Rolling his eyes Treville knew that Louis' moods were like quicksilver, changing from one minute to the next. "Oh and one other thing."

"There's more?" Not believing how circumstances had deteriorated so badly, Porthos couldn't wait for the other shoe to drop. Preferably not on his own head.

"Cardinal Richelieu will also be traveling along with the king and queen." Looking at Athos in particular, Treville was not disappointed in the man's reaction.

"Why the hell not?" Athos snapped. "Make a party of it!" he waved his hands in the air. "Doesn't matter our son hasn't been found yet!"

Listening to his lieutenant vent, Treville had expected it. Noting frustrated looks on both Porthos and Aramis, it was a wonder he didn't have a full scale mutiny on his hands. "If your information pans out then Vadim's planning on attacking the royals at the ceremony. We cannot let that happen."

"Understood, sir." Sliding his gaze toward his unresponsive brother Aramis nudged Athos in the shoulder. "Right, Athos... _we understand?_ "

"Of course," Athos retorted flippantly. "I understand perfectly! I only hope Charles does!" Before opening the door to leave he glanced back at Treville. "I will make certain the rest of the regiment are prepared."

Wincing when the door slammed shut, Treville bent his head. "Athos isn't going to forgive me is he?"

"None of us are 'appy about it, Captin'." Joining Aramis at the door, Porthos swung his gaze back toward Treville. "But we're Musketeers and we'll do what's expected of us."

After his men left, Treville dropped listlessly into a chair. Threading his fingers through what was left of his thinning hair, he felt a stiff brandy wouldn't go amiss right about now. Problem with that was Treville doubted he'd stop at just one drink. Best not to even think upon it.

++++

_Early evening - back again at Vadim's hideout_

"Everything all set, Felix?" After he had made sure all was ready in the tunnels, Vadim had the rest of his men spread false rumors around the city about him wanting to kill the young royal couple.

"Operation _rob the Louvre_ is a go." Hooking his foot around a chair leg Felix brought it over and sat down. "What about the brat, Vadim?"

"Charles is going to come with us." Casting a look at the garcon huddled near the fireplace, Vadim smiled. "He'll be our insurance policy if anything goes wrong."

"Brat's a _policy_ I wouldn't want to bank on," Felix complained while eating his stew.

"I'm not asking you to bank on it." Walking over to where the tot was Vadim hovered over Charles. "We're going on a little trip on the morrow so make sure you get enough rest."

"You letting me go home to my papas?" This was the first piece of good news Charles had heard since he had been taken.

"Not exactly." Seeing the petit's crestfallen expression, Vadim nearly had a change of heart. True the kid had been more trouble than he was worth. But Vadim needed to have a contingency plan set in case things didn't go the way he wanted them too.

"My papas are going to be really angry with you when you're caught."

"I don't intend to get _caught_ ," Vadim chuckled at the kid's brass.

"Honestly, Vadim," Suzette draped herself over him, "why don't you just let him go?"

"Not you too." Vadim shoved her away. Seeing her pretty pout, didn't sway him in the slightest. He was going to say more to her but suddenly his stomach began to churn. "What did you put in that stew anyway?"

"Nothing that would bother you." Standing off to the side, she watched Vadim bend over clutching his stomach. Hearing gagging sounds behind her Suzette spotted Felix vomiting into a chamber pot. Not far behind Vadim did the same thing. Almost missing it, Suzette caught a flash of a smile from the kid.

Going over to the garcon, Suzette hissed, "What did you do?"

His eyes gave Charles away, when he innocently glanced at a bottle of hot sauce sitting on the table beside the half empty pot of stew.

Shaking a fist at the kid, Suzette went back over to Vadim and Felix. "Your Charles put hot sauce in the food. Must have dumped a lot in it judging by the way you two are upchucking."

"Once I'm feeling better I'm going to wring that brat's neck!" Sending the kid a look that meant he'd get even with him, Felix bent over the chamber pot again.

"Vadim," Suzette handed him a clean towel, "you bit off more than you could chew when you nabbed that one."

"At the time he was my only ticket out of the Chatelet." Vadim still clutched his stomach but the ache was lessening. "The gods must truly be laughing their asses off at me."

"Aren't you mad at the garcon?" Sometimes Suzette didn't understand this man she was crazy in love with.

"I'm finding myself admiring his gumption." Listening to Felix moaning, Vadim rolled his eyes. "I'll have to keep a close watch on Felix to make sure he doesn't hurt Charles."

"By day's end on the morrow we'll be rich beyond our wildest dreams." Suzette danced about the room, thinking on all that lovely jewelry just lying in the royal vault gathering dust. Soon all those gems and diamonds would be in their possession.

"Then we'll both be living like royalty." What's an upset stomach compared to what Vadim had to look forward too?

++++

_Note:_

_Voleur_ \- means thief


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Next day, late morning - on their way to Jardin du Luxembourg Park_

A large escort surrounded the carriage carrying the royal occupants, along with the First Minister of France. Occasionally one would see a hand peeking out from a carriage window to wave at some of the Parisians, who were bundled up against the cold weather, waiting for a chance to see the young monarchs in person.

"This is ridiculous." Porthos grumbled to Aramis, who rode abreast of him, as they covered the rear of the carriage. "We should be out there searchin' for our kid."

Turning his head to catch his friend's eye, Aramis simply nodded his agreement. None of them were pleased about this. Especially Athos who rode in the lead alongside Captain Treville. Their eldest brother had barely spoken a word to anyone since his rant in the captain's office earlier.

"I'm freezin' my ass off too." Pulling his winter leather cloak tighter across his body, Porthos' large frame still shivered against the chill in the air. "Doubt I'll get my rear out of this saddle once we get ta the park."

Covering his mouth with a hand, Aramis tried not to laugh at Porthos' remark. There was truth in his brother's statement as he too felt nearly glued to his own saddle as well. It was a testament to how cold it was outside as every breath they took came out looking like nothing more than small, white puffs of clouds. It was one of the reasons Aramis was trying not to speak, protecting his throat as much as possible. What a crime it would be if he found himself unable to recite poetry to one of Madame Angel's flock. Of course that would happen once they rescued Charles which was, above all, the most important thing at the moment.

Inside the carriage, it was a solemn trio that couldn't wait for the ceremony to be over and done with. 

Huddling in her heavy, fur-line cape, Anne's hand reached out to grip Louis'. "Charles will be found. I'm sure of it," she squeezed his hand tighter.

Patting her gloved hand, Louis tried to give her a smile of comfort. But it proved harder than he thought. "Perhaps I should have scheduled this for another time after all." Shooting a look toward Cardinal Richelieu, Louis winced. His Eminence had been quite vocal in his protests against this ceremony in the first place. The timing was all wrong as it was still winter and then, of course, it delayed the search for their petit Charles.

"You know my feelings on the matter, sire," Richelieu's right brow arched nearly to his hairline.

"Indeed I do." Louis murmured quietly, feeling Anne's gentle presence beside him.

"Tis to be hoped that this ceremony in honor of King Henry will not be overlong," or so Richelieu silently prayed. Every second they spent wasting time on this could have been put to better use in locating the whereabouts of the child, who had left a mark on all their hearts. And, oui, Richelieu did have one despite words to the contrary.

"I will speak as fast as I can, Cardinal." Feeling like he had just been taken to task, Louis glanced at Anne's amused expression. "I have been known to do so in the past."

Smiling at her husband's words, Anne knew to what incident Louis referred. There had been an event where he was the key speaker. But his speech lasted no longer than a few minutes. Leaving everyone wondering what had happened. She had discovered later that he had forgotten most of it. When Louis had told her that, Anne convulsed into laughter much to the chagrin of her spouse.

Sticking his head out into the cold, Richelieu shouted out the captain's name. "Treville!"

Bringing his mount around, Treville drew close to the side of the carriage. "We are almost there."

"Devil take it!" Noting Treville's eyes widen in surprise, Richelieu shook his head. "Do not think I was for this," he hissed, not wanting Louis to further hear his disappointment with the young monarch's decision.

"Between you, myself and my men, Cardinal," Treville's lips tightened, "none of us wanted this right now."

"Fortunately this will be over soon and your men can continue searching for our petit garcon." Hearing Treville grunt his agreement, Richelieu was happy to sit back away from the window as the cold air bit into his flesh.

Arriving at Jardin du Luxembourg Park, all the Musketeers in attendance dismounted to surround the carriage as Their Majestys and Cardinal Richelieu were about to exit it.

Knowing this ceremony was to dedicate yet another statue in honor of the late King Henry, Athos kept from howling in the wind. How many statues can one have devoted to the same individual? What a waste of time and money that should have been spent on the king's subjects. Silently Athos kept telling himself that Charles knew they would find him. But the worry he had been dwelling upon was in what state would they discover their son in. If Vadim had hurt their youngest in any way, Athos wouldn't wait for a trial. The batard would find himself stuck like a pig at the end of Athos' sword.

++++

_Louvre_

With only a light guard presence at the palace, now that nearly all the soldiers were at the ceremony, Vadim practically had the run of the place. Snickering to himself how the rumors he had spread had put a panic in the Musketeers and Red Guard, having them running around in circles, Vadim made use of the secret passages he had learned about during his brief stint working here.

By the time he had picked the royal vault clean, Vadim had filled two large sacks with jewelry worth a king's ransom or more. One diamond studded necklace, in particular, had been picked out for Suzette. Thinking about how she would show her gratitude to him later Vadim left the vault, a warm smile of anticipation on his weathered face. It would be about time now for the diversion he had set up in the tunnels below that lead to the Louvre. Once they blew Vadim would make his escape and soon find himself wrapped up in Suzette's welcoming embrace.

++++

_Jardin du Luxembourg Park_

Louis was the first to step outside the carriage. Turning to help Anne out suddenly there was a terrific explosion, coming from the direction of the Louvre.

Not hesitating for one second, Treville shoved the king back inside the carriage. He didn't have to tell his soldiers to protect the royals and the cardinal, they knew their jobs well. Noting the inseparable's heads turned quickly away from where the palace stood to stare back at him, Treville realized they all came to the same conclusion simultaneously.

"Vadim's made us look in the wrong direction!" Athos shouted. "He's robbing the Louvre!"

"And he may have Charles with him!" Aramis angrily yelled out, exchanging grim looks with his brothers.

"Take as many men as you need, Athos!" Knowing now that the royals had never been in any danger, Treville could safely send more Musketeers and Red Guards back with them.

++++

_Louvre_

Once Vadim made it back to the outside of the palace he discovered at least seven guards remained between him and where Felix waited with the rest of his men, along with his petit antagonizer. Having anticipated this, Vadim switched the heavy sacks to one hand while he reached inside his jacket with the other. The inside had a special lining holding a series of homemade bombs he and Felix had worked on last night. He was always prepared for glitches in any job, this was no exception as he lit the fuse on the first one.

It didn't take long for Vadim to light the fuses. Throwing bombs left and right the smoke-filled air gave him the extra cover he needed to escape around to the back of the palace. Throwing the sacks on the back of his horse Vadim mounted quickly. Seeing Charles sitting in front of Felix, a scowl of discontent marred his young features, Vadim began to laugh. "Not happy that I've looted the king's home eh, mon enfant terrible?"

"King Louis' Muskyteers will get you!" though Charles conviction behind his words wavered slightly. So far Vadim, to his limited knowledge, was good at not getting arrested. It wouldn't surprise him if the voleur outwitted the king's soldiers.

"Bien," Vadim gave a careless shrug of one large shoulder, "we will see won't we?" With a wave of his hand all of them turned their mounts around, leaving the chaos he had created behind him.

++++

_On the way back to the Louvre_

Their horses racing at a mad gallop, the only thought running through the inseparable's heads was the hope that Charles wasn't with Vadim. Oh they wanted to find their son but not when there was the slightest risk that the toddler could get injured from the fallout.

They had taken a shorter route back to the palace in the vain hope of catching Vadim before the criminal completely disappeared again, slinking back into whatever hole the voleur crawled out of.

Unbeknownst to Vadim, and company, they had taken the same shortcut and therefore were stunned to find themselves face to face with Musketeers and Red Guard.

"I'll be damned!" Porthos stopped Roulette with a jerk on the reins. Jumping off he ran to the side taking cover behind several wooden crates. One hand holding his musket and the other a pistol, ready to take the enemy down.

"I say this is a stroke of luck." Grinning like he had just won a fair maiden's hand, Aramis too threw himself off of Belle to crouch behind some barrels stacked in front of a vacant building.

Shouting out orders to the other soldiers with them, Athos took up position beside Aramis. "Mon Dieu! Look!" he pointed to one of the men with Vadim who had Charles with him.

Porthos, seeing the same thing, growled deep in his throat but was afraid to make a move yet for fear that the tot could be hurt.

"Vadim?" Felix's hold tightened on the garcon, so much so, that Charles emitted a squeak at being handled like that.

Seeing his papas filled Charles with happiness. Soon, he knew, Vadim was going to lose. Taking a chance he made a quick decision. With Felix's one hand on his upper chest, holding Charles close, he saw the voleur's exposed wrist. Bending his head Charles bit the man hard there thus giving him a chance to fall off the horse onto the snow covered ground.

Roaring with pain, Felix could have cared less that the kid had gotten away from him. Not so with Vadim who angrily clouted him on the head for not paying attention to Charles.

That garcon was Vadim's only ace in the hole against the Musketeers and Red Guards. Getting off his horse, as did the rest of his gang, they all spread out.

Wanting nothing more than to race to his son's side, Athos held back as did Aramis and Porthos. All were of the same mind that to act rashly at this point could spell disaster for Charles. It was then, in horror, that Athos watched Vadim light two bombs to throw their way while the petit was still on the ground unprotected.

Wanting to hold back the soldiers, and get the kid back at the same time, Vadim threw his bombs in two different directions. What he hadn't counted on was that Charles would get up and run away at the same moment.

Noting Charles was racing toward Athos and himself, Aramis could do nothing more than to silently cheer the tyke on. But when Vadim's one bomb landed near his son Aramis' only thought was to protect the petit garcon with his very life. Getting up from his position he rushed over and threw himself on top of the bomb.

" _MERE DE DIEU!_ " Athos screamed in horror at what his couragous friend was doing. " _ARAMIS! YOU FOOL!_ " Still that didn't stop him from calling the marksman names.

" _NOM DE DIEU! YOU IDIOT!_ " His voice mixing with that of Athos, Porthos thought on the many ways he'd rake Aramis over the coals for this latest piece of foolhardiness. That is if his brother didn't get blown to pieces first.

Shocked at what his papa Mis had done, Charles began crying. " _NON! NON! PAPA MIS! NON!_ "

Scrambling out of the safety of cover Athos quickly snatched Charles away, throwing his own body on top of the petit for fear of the explosion to come. When nothing happened, he cautiously lifted his head up to stare over at Aramis who was still huddled over the bomb.

By the grace of a kind and benevolent God, Aramis rolled away from what had turned out to be a dud. Kissing the crucifix he always wore, he made the sign of the cross looking up heavenwards. He didn't get much time to be thankful when suddenly a large hand reached down, picked him up and began shaking the life out of him. " _PORTHOS! STOP! I'M ALIVE, MON FRERE!_ "

" _WE ALL CAN SEE THAT YOU STUPID IDIOT!_ " Warring between hugging Aramis or punching his friend out, Porthos settled for shoving Aramis out of the way upon seeing one of Vadim's men training a pistol on them. Easily taking care of business Porthos tucked his still smoking pistol inside his weapon's belt, as the other man dropped dead on the ground.

Peppering his son's tearful face with kisses, Athos held Charles close to his heart. "You're all right. You're all right," he rambled on, while his eyes took in the garcon's frightened face. "Plenty of time to talk later. I want you to stay right where I put you until the fighting's over." Placing a still trembling hand on Charle's cheek, Athos needed to know that he was understood. When his son gave him a tremulous smile and an affirmative nod back, Athos let out a breath he didn't even know he held.

With Charles as safe as could be expected Athos drew out his blade, noting that Vadim now could be seen through the smoke-filled haze created by the bombs. Growling Athos spat, "Time to pay the piper."

++++

_Notes:_

_Mere de Dieu_ \- Mother of God  
_Nom de Dieu_ \- God damn it  
_Mon enfant terrible_ \- my terrible child  
_Batard_ \- bastard  
_Voleur_ \- thief

I tried to find out the distance between Jardin du Luxembourg and the Louvre but couldn't. So for the sake of my story they are in close proximity to one another so that everyone could hear Vadim's bombs when they went off.

The _Jardin du Luxembourg_ (also known as _The Luxembourg Gardens_ ) was and still is probably the most popular park in the heart of Paris. The park is situated near the Latin Quarter. It's about 55 acres and was originally owned by the Duke of Luxembourg, hence the name. The domain was purchased in 1612 by Marie de' Medici, the widow of King Henry IV. After the king was murdered in 1610 she decided to move out from the Louvre to a new residence. There are almost seventy statues and monuments scattered around the park, along with several famous fountains. Among them are twenty statues of French Queens, including Marie de' Medici.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it’s taken some time to get this one up. I did that last stand alone story, then have been helping another author over at Shadolibrary.org with fencing scenes for her sci fi story, suffering through a cold and other RL issues. But finally this chapter is up.  
> Oh and Lady_Neve… look for it. LOL!
> 
> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same place and time – Athos is about to take down Vadim_

Squinting his eyes against the smoky haze left over from his bombs that had exploded, Vadim’s eyes narrowed on the Musketeer who stood before him. Even though he lost track of where his men had gone off to, he heard sounds of yelling mixed with musket and pistol fire in the background. Clearly Vadim would have to get out of this himself seeing that he was all out of tricks and bombs. Pay the piper, repeating the words of the furious Musketeer to himself. If Vadim had anything to say about it, the piper wouldn’t see his payment for a long time to come. With a theatrical bow and swish of his blade, he smiled at his opponent.

“Robbing the Louvre,” Athos quirked a brow, “was a mistake.” Throwing a quick look over his shoulder to where Charles stood, between Porthos and Aramis, he breathed a sigh of relief that the petit was out of harm’s way. “Kidnapping our son,” lunging so fast Vadim didn’t have time to move out of the way he snarled, “was a very grave error of judgment on your part.” Viciously he sliced skin off the side of the voleur’s left cheek. It only satisfied a tiny part of the rage that had been building within Athos.

Growling, Vadim’s hand came away red with blood. “So your one of Charle’s papas he kept boasting about.” His shrewd gaze locked onto the sharp blue eyes breathing fire at him. Moving off to the side Vadim’s next strike missed the other man by a mile, watching as his opposition lightly danced away from him. “Which one are you?”

“ _ATHOS!_ ” he shouted, while kicking out with his right leg to trip Vadim up. When the voleur stumbled, nearly losing his balance, Athos used the hilt of his own sword to hit the batard hard underneath Vadim’s chin. Pretty sure Athos heard several of the other man’s teeth cracking, he was filled with grim pleasure. Let Vadim suffer as Athos and his brothers had these past agonizing days.

++++

Held close to papa Porth’s chest, Charle’s eyes grew wide with fear upon watching Vadim fighting with papa Thos. A large dark hand kept trying to turn his head away from the sight but he was having none of that while Charles kept twisting his head away to evade it.

“Let him be,” Aramis commanded quietly. “Charles knows what we do for a living. I think he’s earned the right to watch this.”

“ _YOU!_ ” Porthos hissed. “ _SHOVE IT!_ ” We’re still gonna ‘ave those words I threatened you with later,” he spat out. “And the whelp don’t need ta see any killin’.”

“Oh I wouldn’t have let the lad see that part,” Aramis huffed. “Just enough for Charles to learn that sooner or later criminals like Vadim never escape justice.”

++++

Lashing out with his sword Vadim let out a foul expletive that Athos hoped his son hadn’t heard. When the voleur’s next cut came very close to Athos’ chest, he quickly turned around to evade his assailant’s blade. Then simultaneously Athos delivered a return thrust of his own, making Vadim stagger back to hit against the wall of the building they were dueling in front of.

Used to seeing his eldest brother at work Porthos knew Athos was going in for the kill soon, so gently he tucked Charle’s face into his shoulder. Keeping one hand firmly on the back of the toddler’s head, effectively preventing the runt from witnessing Vadim’s demise.

“I wanna see, papa Porth,” Charle’s whined, still trying to watch papa Thos in action.

“Trust me when I say ya really don’t, kid.” Dropping a quick kiss on the whelp’s head, Porthos exchanged an unhappy look with Aramis.

++++

There was one way to end this once and for all. Having not performed the difficult maneuver in quite a time, Athos decided to execute it anyway. Dropping below Vadim’s blade, he attacked from beneath. Throwing his rear leg back behind him, Athos extended his free hand down to catch himself so that he was supported by his two feet and one hand as he thrust his blade upward and into Vadim’s abdomen. Noting the shock register on the voleur’s face brought Athos great satisfaction.

Observing Vadim’s body drop listlessly to the ground Aramis and Porthos noted that Athos casually stepped over his victim, uncaring that the man was bleeding to death.

Clapping his hands, Aramis dipped his head in respect for Athos' greater expertise with the blade. "I haven't seen you perform a passata sotto since you took down that blackguard Duval."

"Pffft!" Shaking his head ruefully Athos remarked, "It was far too easy for me back then."

"It was only three or four years ago if memory serves me," Aramis mused.

"I'm getting older," Athos reminded him.

"Speak for yourself." Tipping his chapeau just so, Aramis grinned. “After all you’re only twenty six. Don’t rush too early for that retirement you’re so longing for.”

“Retirement?” Glancing from one brother to the other, Porthos was puzzled. “First time I ‘eard of it.” Stabbing Athos with a long look, he grunted. “Thought ya wanted ta go out in a blaze of glory.”

Tilting his head to the side, Athos smiled slightly. “I believe I said that in jest after I nearly got skewered a few months ago when we were rounding up those maladrins that were causing problems in the area.”

Still holding the wriggling body of their youngest, Porthos tried to think back on that incident. Not coming up with anything, he shrugged his shoulders. “Anyways goin’ out fightin’ is the way I want it ta happen.”

“Could we talk about something other than our future demise?” Cocking his head toward their son, Aramis got his point across to his friends.

Seeing an opportune time to change the subject, Athos posed a question. "I realize that someone had to watch our poppet while the fighting commenced but is there a reason why one of you didn't go to our fellow brother’s aid to round up the rest of Vadim's band?" Then trying to take Charles from Porthos turned out to be a tug of war... literally. When Athos pulled... Porthos pulled back. This went on for nearly a minute until Athos' scowl cowed his bigger friend into giving in.

"The rest of the regiment had it under control." Finally releasing the runt into Athos' care Porthos' hand still remained in contact with Charles, as if by touch alone it would anchor the child to him.

"Even the Red Guards earned their pay today," Aramis quipped.

The tot held tightly in his arms Athos glowered over the garcon's head, making the marksman squirm under the heat of his gaze. "You have no room to make light of anything, Aramis," he snapped. Noting the contrite look that graced his younger friend's handsome features, he refused to forgive him so easily for almost throwing his life away in that manner. Even if it had been to protect their precious child.

"Rene came over while ya was fightin' with that scum," Porthos said. "They recovered all the loot Vadim took from the royal vault."

"Excellent." Knowing that the riches that were stolen from the Louvre were safely back in the proper hands had Athos breathing easier. It also helped that he finally had Charles where he belonged as well. "An awful lot of people were worried about you, mon ange." Kissing the toddler's forehead, Athos felt Charle’s breath puff gently against his face as the petit sighed.

"Oui. I know." Soft brown eyes looked beseechingly at his papa, silently willing him for his forgiveness. About to voice his troublesome thoughts out loud Charles caught sight of Vadim laying on the ground, but papa Thos' hand on his cheek quickly turned his head away. But able to see Felix surrounded by other Musketeers he blurted out, "That one spanked me."

Three heads swiveled around in unison to see whom their son was pointing too. All the inseparables wore the same expression. The one that stated that the culprit who hurt their petit would suffer greatly.

"There was a poor mouse looking for food and he kicked it so hard it hit the wall. I got mad and dropped a brick on his foot," Charles proudly announced. When all but papa Thos grinned back at him, Charles felt slightly better about what he had done to Felix. He wasn’t sure whether or not the look of stunned surprise that crossed papa Thos’ features boded ill for him or not.

"Did Vadim hurt ya in anyway either?" Even if the batard had, he was dead or close to it by the looks of it. Seeing the voleur's blood pouring out of Vadim's stomach wound, Porthos could feel no sympathy for what the man had put them all through. Still he needed to hear it from Charle's lips if Vadim had tried anything.

"I wanted to go home and he wouldn't let me." Charle's voice wobbled slightly. "I kicked him really hard in the knee." Biting his lip he tried to hide his face in papa Thos' neck.

"Go on mon coeur," Aramis urged, rubbing soothingly up and down his son's back.

"He shook me really hard after I did that," Charles admitted. "I tried to be brave."

"Of course ya were, whelp." Chucking the petit garcon under the chin, Porthos winked. "You're an honorary Musketeer. Ya couldn't be anythin' but brave."

"Revenge would have been sweet." Aramis dark eyes roamed over the faces of his brothers noting the fierce light shining out of their own eyes, knowing that it matched his own. "Alas Vadim's now gone from this world." Looking upon the voleur's corpse Aramis tried to harden his heart but found himself kneeling by Vadim's body anyway. Making the sign of the cross over the deceased, he murmured a few quiet prayers and then stood up again.

"What's the other one's name, runt?" Porthos asked. "The man you pointed to just now."

"I didn't like Felix at all," Charles stated flatly. "He was meaner than Vadim."

"Felix," Porthos repeated. His eyes followed the voleur's steps as this Felix was being led away to either the Bastille or Chatelet.

"Porthos, mon ami," Aramis threw an arm across the massive shoulders of his friend, "you must leave enough for Athos and myself to gain some satisfaction." A grunt in response was all Aramis had to go by and could only assume Porthos would heed his words.

"You're still in the dog house, Mis." Shrugging off Aramis' arm, Porthos headed for Roulette.

Before the other man tried to play the innocent, Athos briefly handed Charles over to the marksman while he mounted Roger. Then Aramis handed the tyke back up to him. Making sure the toddler was secure in front with him first, Athos then gave the order to all of his men to depart and head back to the palace.

++++

_Royal Palace - main hall_

The dedication ceremony had been canceled, for the obvious reasons. Their Majestys and Cardinal Richelieu had immediately gone back to the palace, under the close guard of Captain Treville and his Musketeers.

Everyone was now gathered together, either wringing their hands with anxiety or pacing the floor. Word hadn't reached the Louvre as yet on whether or not Vadim and his gang had been captured. None of them even knew that Charles had been with the voleurs at the time either. Though all of them hoped that if Vadim had been taken into custody that he would have told them where to find the petit garcon.

It wasn't until a young page raced into the room announcing the arrival of the Musketeers and Red Guard that they prayed the outcome was what all of them had been hoping for. Mere moments later in walked the inseparables with Athos carrying a most treasured personage that everyone was grateful to see.

Putting his moppet down Athos was amazed to see the young royal's reaction.

Dropping to their knees Their Majestys engulfed Charles within a warm, loving embrace.

"We were so scared for you." King Louis whispered into the petit's hair.

"I said so many prayers for God to watch over you." Tears poured down Queen Anne's face.

Sandwiched in-between the king and queen, Charles tried to pat their cheeks. "It's okay. I'm all right."

"You may be, Charles," King Louis stood back up. "But I'm not sure my nerves could take much more excitement than what we've had these past days."

Hooking her arm in that of her husband, Queen Anne nodded her regal head in agreement. "I will admit to not having any nerves left after all of this." Her eyes strayed to Louis. "If I ever hear the name Vadim anytime soon I think I shall scream."

"I don't think Vadim meant to harm me. Not really." Noting the obvious disbelief etched on all their faces, Charles didn't have time to say anything further. For suddenly he found himself plucked up into the air and cradled in the arms of his Constance.

"I'm going to permanently chain you to me so you can't go sneaking away like you did," Constance tearfully scolded the lad. "Bad enough your papas risk life and limb nearly every day performing their duty," she huffed. "Tis not time yet for you to start making us prematurely grey." Casting a critical eye over the tot, it seemed Constance was pleased that Charles appeared uninjured.

It was when she glanced over at Aramis that all color fled from her face. When some of the soldiers returned earlier than the others, they had all learned of Aramis' daring sacrifice. At the time it hit Constance harder than the others. Relinquishing her hold on Charles, she gently pushed him toward a very harried captain and cardinal.

Marching straight up to where the marksman stood grinning at Constance like a loon, in his arrogance Aramis probably thought she was going to kiss him. Instead she did leave her mark on him but not quite in the way Aramis would have liked. His right cheek felt the sting of her palm as it cracked across his face. " _YOU STUPID IDIOT!_ " Shaking her hand out Constance tried to rub the soreness away.

The force of her unexpected rage made Aramis stagger to his left, nearly bumping into Porthos' solid bulk. The latter, he noted with a frown, was laughing at him and not bothering to hide it either. "You're a little late in calling me that, Constance." He rubbed at his sore cheek. "Porthos already beat you to it."

"It bears repeating," she snapped. "If I ever hear of you pulling something like that again..." Constance left the rest unsaid. About to walk away from him she changed her mind and turned around to slap Aramis just as hard on his left cheek.

Reeling from both blows, Aramis for once found himself quite inarticulate. He should have realized her temper would have matched her titian hair. "What was that one for?"

"The next time you get a hairbrained idea like that one," Constance fired back.

Trying to get back on an even keel Aramis pleasantly asked, "Did slapping me make you feel better?" He wouldn't admit this to her but Aramis actually enjoyed it when she hit him. Loving violence in a woman would one day be his downfall.

"Hmmmpf!" Flouncing away toward where Charles was, Constance didn't look back at him.

"For what it's worth, Aramis," Queen Anne's lips twitched at the scene she had just witnessed, "I agree with her. Even if it were for myself or Louis' protection we wouldn't want you to throw yourself on a bomb."

"Besides," King Louis' eyes danced with mirth, "think of all that mess to clean up afterwards." Hearing both Cardinal Richelieu and Treville moan at his words, he turned to them wearing a devilish grin. "I think tis time for another party."

"Merde!" Treville swore quietly then nearly jumped out of his skin when the cardinal, whom he had completely forgotten was standing next to him, whispered his agreement.

Watching Constance go back over to their son, Athos' thoughts were deep. "We should consider making her our fourth."

"She's got plenty of fire in 'er for the job," Porthos chuckled, picturing that young woman dressed like one of them. "Constance would fill out the uniform nice and proper." He cast a wicked glance at Athos. "We could make 'er an honorary Musketeer."

"Are you two out of your minds?" If he didn't love them so much, Aramis considered bashing their heads together.

Stepping forward Porthos picked Aramis up in the air and shook him harder than he had ever done. "Ya could 'av shouted at the kid ta get outta the way of the bomb! Not doin' what ya did!" He continued shaking his friend, until Aramis' chapeau fell off his head and his mass of curly, dark hair flew in all different directions. "Nearly killin' all of us in the process watchin' ya get blown ta bits!"

Removing Porthos' large hands from his doublet, Aramis stepped back a pace or two from his brother only to land in Athos' direction. Straightening his doublet and picking up his chapeau from the floor, he looked the older man in the eye. "I believe you called me a fool."

"I'm much calmer now." Athos' blue eyes were hard as flint, staring into the younger man's. "And you are still a fool!" Slowly removing his gloves he tucked them into his weapon's belt. "You are lucky that I let Porthos get physical because I was thinking upon other ways to make you pay for giving me heart failure."

Then a very young voice got Athos', and his brothers, attention.

"Papa Mis," Charlies whispered, tears beginning to form in his eyes, "I don't want you to die for me.... ever."

Bending down on one knee, Aramis wiped the tot's tears with a gloved hand. "Mon coeur, I can't make promises like that. None of us can. Especially if it pertains to your welfare, Charles." He thumbed another tear away from the petit's cheek. "What I can do is try my best not to do _hairbrained_ stunts like that again." Wrapping the youngster in his arms, Aramis hugged him close.

Snuggled close, Charles nervously asked a question that had been bothering him during the ride back to the palace with papa Thos. "Am I in a lot of trouble for what I did?" He worried upon what his punishment would be for disobeying Constance and running off the way he had.

Releasing Charles, Aramis stood up to join his brothers.

All the inseparables stared at Charles, compassion evident in their faces. They knew there should have been consequences for the garcon's actions but in their hearts they just couldn't do it to the petit. Believing that what the lad had already gone through, being Vadim's captive, had been enough of a punishment for him.

"I think you've already been suitably punished considering everything that has happened." Athos waited until the child looked up at him, before continuing. "But I believe Constance has the right idea."

"What idea, papa Thos?"

"We either do as Constance suggested and chain you to our sides," Athos drawled, "or put you on an extremely short leash."

"Better yet, Athos," Treville bent down to look Charles in the eye, "I could order a contingent of Musketeers to trail after the lad wherever he goes."

"I'll do one better than that," Richelieu's voice broke in. "I'll have my Red Guard protecting him."

Tired of listening to who could better protect him, Charles walked over to Constance. Tugging on her skirts he crooked a finger at her to bend down. "I'm awfully hungry."

"Mon Dieu!" She grabbed his hand and headed for the kitchen.

"Where are you both going?" Athos turned a bewildered look on them.

"Why all of you discuss the best way to protect Charles," Constance rolled her eyes, "he's starving. Who knows when the last time he ate was?"

Opening his mouth to reply, Athos decided against it. Watching instead the young woman cart Charles off towards the palace kitchens. Actually, the more he thought upon it, Athos was hungry too. Listening to his stomach growl, he decided to follow them.

"Where are they goin?" Nudging Aramis in the ribs, Porthos pointed at Constance, Charles and Athos. Watching all of them leave through a side exit.

"Those doors lead to the kitchens." Realizing why they probably were going there, Aramis grinned. "Suddenly I'm hungry, mon frere."

Understanding slowly dawned, making Porthos laugh. "Yeah, think it's time for me ta re-aquaint myself with Louise."

"Louise?" Aramis wasn't sure he knew her.

"She's the head cook." With a wink and a shove at Aramis to get a move on, Porthos led the way toward Louise.

++++

 _Notes:_  
_Voleur_ – thief  
_Batard_ \- bastard


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up being a bit more about Aramis than I intended. But I think Lady_Neve will be happy (grins).
> 
> Also Charle's 4th birthday will be coming up soon and he will no longer be considered a bébé. So when this story concludes I'm not sure right now but I could always re-visit it as he gets a little older as I did with a different Musketeer story before.
> 
> See notes below.
> 
> ++++

_Next Day_

The night before it had been decided that whenever young Charles was ever within the vicinity of the Garrison, Royal Palace or Palais-Cardinal, that a squad of either Musketeers or Red Guard would be assigned to their petit warrior.

As to the fate of Felix and the rest of Vadim’s cohorts they had been upgraded from the Bastille to the Chatelet, awaiting their sentencing for crimes against the crown which also included the kidnapping of young Charles.

If there had been a number of curious looks cast Felix’ way later this morn, bien the guards put it down to the voleur’s bad luck in dealing with Musketeers bent on retribution. For Felix had unfortunately run afoul of a meaty fist… Several meaty fists by the look of things. His face gave all the appearance of being used as a punching bag. Whenever the voleur attempted to move his body, the guards could hear Felix groaning in pain. It attested to the vivid bruising they had seen when the man’s shirt had parted. No doubt his other extremities bore the same treatment.

"He made his bed," one of the older guards shook his head. "Now he's going to have to lie on it."

The guards then left Felix be. They had others to check on. This one was a lost cause anyway for they knew he would be heading for the gallows.

++++

_Inseparable's home_

"But why, papa Mis?" After his ordeal, Charles thought he'd have time to spend with all his papas. But that didn't look like happening.

"Because, mon coeur," Aramis hugged the petit garcon close, "I am first and foremost a soldier who does not question his captain's orders."

"Oh that would be a first," Porthos whispered into Athos' ear, feeling his eldest brother's shoulders shaking in silent amusement.

"Mon ange," going over to his son Athos rested his hand on the tot's head, "Porthos and I are to remain here at least. Will we not be enough to entertain you until Aramis returns to us?" His hand tenderly brushed hair away from the child's face.

Chewing on his bottom lip Charles stared first at his papa Porth' dark face, then skimmed the features of papa Thos catching the twinkle in his blue eyes, then lastly to papa Mis who was studying Charles intently. "Guess so."

Bowing before the tyke, Athos drawled, "We will do our utmost to occupy your time with pleasurable pursuits." Catching Porthos rolling his eyes, he refrained from laughing noting the serious expression crossing their poppet's face.

Before gathering the rest of his supplies, Aramis didn't forget to kiss the child farewell. Upon doing so he noted the fact that Charles was growing up. The lad had gained an inch or two since having been with them.

Noting two sets of lips twitching, Aramis winked at his friends. "I'm quite glad Captain Treville and the cardinal were able to talk His Majesty out of throwing a party for our young one just because we rescued him."

"Queen Anne also voiced her disapproval feeling that perhaps it would be too much," Athos added. "I believe she thinks, as we all do, that our pup is going to end up being spoiled if this continues."

"Then why didn't anyone object when King Louis instead promised ta hold a birthday bash for when the runt turns four?" Not seeing the difference, Porthos snorted. "It's still a party. No matter how ya look at it."

"Because, mon frere," Aramis grinned, "tis a momentous occasion."

"Indeed," Athos nodded. "A fine old age that." Gazing fondly at Charles, he sighed. "Tis not that far off either." Feeling a lightness in his chest he hadn't felt since Charle's kidnapping, Athos was actually looking forward to the garcon's natal day.

Placing his chapeau upon his head Aramis adjusted it the way he liked. With a broad grin and a wink at Charles, then at his brothers, he slung his satchel over one shoulder. A careless wave of one hand toward them all he then departed.

"Mis can take care of 'imself." Not sure if it was for his benefit or Athos' that Porthos offered his thoughts.

"Of course he can, mon ami." Patting the gentle giant on the back Athos wondered how they would keep their petit busy and out of trouble until Aramis came back.

His unhappiness with papa Mis lingered, while Charles contemplated his upcoming birthday. "I don't need a party," he said glumly.

"What?" Bending down Porthos picked up the garcon. "Everyone loves a party," he boasted. "Especially when it's _your_ birthday."

"Mmmmm," Charles hummed, "I don't really need anything." He knew parties meant he would be receiving gifts and since coming to live here Charles has had more than his fair share of them. Remembering back to when his père had taught him not to become greedy and to be thankful for what he had, Charles would be just as happy to celebrate with only his papas and no presents.

"Yeah, runt," Porthos chuckled, "But ya can never 'ave enough cake and all the treats that'll go along with it." He always thought food was the answer to everything.

"Who is the party going to be for?" Athos asked. "You or our son?" There was never enough food to fill Porthos' belly. Just saying the word _party_ made his friend's mouth start watering. Of course Athos didn't even want to think about the wine that would be flowing at the event. Hopefully he would be able to keep Porthos down to no more than two glasses. Of course that would pertain to himself and Aramis as well. It wouldn't do for one of them to take a nose dive at Their Majesty's feet. Even though they've all been most circumspect with their alcohol intake, since being in charge of a three year old, the temptation to indulge may prove difficult. Though all of them had done a fine job during the holiday festivities. Perhaps Athos would engage Constance in keeping tabs on them and especially on Aramis.

"Will papa Mis be gone long?" Both Charle's arms were around papa Porth' neck, as he leaned back to stare into his papa's face.

"Artois is only a couple days away." Porthos walked into the kitchen. "Everythin' goes accordin' ta plan Mis should be back in about five days."

"Feel better knowing that, mon ange?" He knew Charles would be counting each and every day until Aramis came back to them. Matter of fact, Athos wasn't overly fond of solo missions. Past experience proved it was always better to travel as a unit for protection against malandrins roaming throughout the area.

"Oui." Bobbing his head up and down, Charles wanted badly to suck on his thumb. Knowing he was going to soon become a year older prevented him from doing such a babyish thing. It was a very large step for him to take, but he wanted to make his papas proud. Being the adopted son of Musketeers, Charles wanted to emulate them. This would be his start on that path.

++++

_A little over two days later - Artois_

Delivering his package and missive to the Count of Artois, Aramis fulfilled his duty and began his journey back to Paris. A day into his travels, he found himself under attack. Throwing himself off of Belle's back he scrambled over for cover behind several trees. A musketball shot the bark off of one of the branches, nearly going into Aramis' eyes. That was a close call and he wasn't looking forward to another as he aimed and fired his musket. Getting off clean shots he noted two malandrins fell from their mounts. Armed with two pistols and his harquebus, Aramis prayed he wouldn't have to use all his ammunition up before they got tired of becoming his targets. It was just his luck that he didn't have Porthos and Athos along with him. But he'd have to make do with only himself this time around.

He kept picking them off one by one thinking that these malandrins were poor shots indeed. When things quieted down, Aramis noted at least six dead men on the ground. Pretty good for being on his own. Still he knew there were more just laying in wait until Aramis did something foolish like leaving the safety of his cover.

Well known for doing _foolish_ things, which Aramis could attest too from being on the receiving end of Constance's many slaps, he contemplated what the odds were if he stayed right where he was or tried to make a run for it. Alas, if only Porthos were with him. Between the two of them those _odds_ would have dwindled considerably on doing that _foolish_ thing Aramis was currently dwelling upon.

Waiting until the cover of darkness, Aramis carefully slipped away. As quietly as possible he mounted Belle. Whispering in her ear he knew his mount would be equally as quiet when they made their escape. Just when Aramis felt he was Scott free, a burning pain entered the back of his upper right shoulder. "Nom de Dieu!" he violently swore. Transferring the reins to his right hand, Aramis reached out with his left to touch the wound on his back. The smell of blood hit him, before his hand came away bloody. Too dark to see the front exit wound, all Aramis could do was feel by touch. Grimacing from the pain, he acknowledged that the musketball was still inside him.

Swaying in the saddle, Aramis tried to stay upright. He was losing blood fast, and without being able to reach the injury to staunch the flow, Aramis wasn’t sure if he could evade the malandrins who fired at him. The inky blackness hadn’t prevented Aramis from becoming a victim of a musket shot so he couldn’t trust in it effectively hiding him. The only thing he could do was place his trust in a higher power. Clutching the crucifix he wore, Aramis murmured several prayers.

By now Aramis didn’t know what path he led Belle on. What he did know was that soon his body was going to make harsh, painful, contact with the ground. Listening to the soft snickers coming from his horse was the only thing grounding him, as he tried to focus on the sound. Feeling his body starting to list sideways, Aramis last thoughts were of Athos, Porthos and Charles. Would he ever see them again? Teeth clenched tightly against the agony of his wound, eyes partially closed while sweat trickled over his brows, Aramis knew no more when he crashed upon the hardened earth.

++++

_Inseparable’s home_

“ _PAPA MIS!_ ” Screaming out loud, in the middle of the night, Charles didn’t calm down until papa Thos cradled him in his arms. Then feeling another larger, much stronger, pair wrapping around him from behind Charles realized Papa Porth was with him too.

Placing kisses on top of his petit’s head, Athos then lifted up the tear stained face toward his own. “You had a nightmare, eh, mon ange?”

“Papa Mis was hurt.” Sniffling, Charles knuckled his wet eyes.

“You’re just missin’ ‘im, kid.”

“Oui, I do miss him,” Charles whispered into papa Thos’ shoulder. “But I felt his hurt.”

“Runt,” staring over the garcon’s head, Porthos saw Athos' raised brow, “what cha’ mean ya could feel it?”

Touching the back of his right shoulder, Charle's eyes went back and forth between his papas. “It hurts there.”

Tugging the tot’s nightshirt away from his shoulder, both men couldn’t find a mark on Charles. Putting it back in place they tucked him under the covers again.

Kissing the lad’s forehead Athos said, “go back to sleep.”

“It was all just a very bad dream, whelp.” Also placing a kiss to Charle’s cheek, Porthos tapped the child’s nose before leaving with Athos.

++++

“Runt’s got me worried now.”

Rubbing a hand up and down the side of his face, Athos leaned against the wall. Trying to keep his heavy eyelids open he glanced at Porthos doing the same thing. “I hate to admit it but now I am as well.”

“’E’s a day overdue.”

“Pfft! I remember when we’ve been weeks overdue,” Athos drawled.

“Right,” Porthos snorted. “Then the captin’ reamed us a new one for it.” Yawning, his arms outstretched wide, he suggested they go back to bed. “Let’s hit the sack.”

“Mmmmm,” Athos sleepily hummed. “Er, oui. Bed would be a good idea.”

++++

_Next morning_

Waking up to find himself in a warm bed, with his injured shoulder bandaged, was something of a surprise to Aramis. The previous night’s excursion was somewhat muddled in his mind but quickly came back to him. Attempting to sit up proved to be a bad idea. “Mon Dieu!” he cried out when a sharp, jagged feeling radiated throughout his wound.

“If you can still feel pain,” an older woman approached, bearing a tray of food, “you know you’re alive at least.”

Wincing, trying to see how much mobility he had with his arm, he gave her a lopsided smile. “I have no doubt of that now.”

Placing the tray on the night stand beside the bed, the woman helped the young man into a better sitting position. “You are lucky my husband found you when he did because you were in a bad way.”

“Merci, for you and your husband’s kindness in caring for a stranger.”

“You may thank me by eating all of this breakfast I prepared.”

“May I ask the name of my saviors?” Eating the hot porridge Aramis observed her watching him eat every mouthful.

“I am Alisanne.” Making sure he ate everything up, Alisanne planted herself firmly by his bedside. Hearing the door creak open, her gaze slid towards the man who entered the room.

Seeing that all was well, the older man grinned at her. Nodding to their invalid he said, “I’m Philippes.”

“I’m Aramis,” he dipped his head. “I’ve already extended my thanks to your lovely wife. Know I am very grateful to you both for taking me in.”

“You know your way around words well, Aramis,” Philippes winked at his wife. “A charmer if I do not miss my guess.”

Smiling, Aramis enjoyed engaging the older couple in conversation. “Words are my forte, in a manner of speaking.” Tilting his head to the side, Ararmis’ snuff of laughter was more at himself than anything. “Normally I am more eloquent than this.” He sighed dramatically. “But alas, I am not at my best.”

“Mmmmm,” Alisanne tapped her chin. “I can spot a ladies man a mile off. Good thing most of our young women are either married or spoken for.”

Placing his hand over his heart, Aramis appeared insulted. “I would never.”

“Aye, lad, you would,” Philippes chuckled. “Given the right circumstances.”

“Got your number we do,” Alisanne joined in her husband’s amusement. “You’re too handsome for your own good. I can see that now.”

Very glad that Athos and Porthos were not here to witness this blow to his pride, Aramis’ eyes landed on his uniform.

The couple saw where Aramis was looking as they exchanged smiles.

"Your pauldron marks you as a Musketeer." Walking over to the chair, where they had placed the young man's clothes and weapon's belt, Philippes fingered the leather material of Aramis' doublet.

"Guilty as charged." Handing over the empty bowl to Alisanne, he leaned against the mounds of pillows propping him up. "I was attacked on my way back to Paris."

"Our home is only a day's ride from the city," Philippes said. "I can send one of our neighbor's sons over to your Garrison to let them know you are here and injured."

"Take out a few coins from the pocket of my doublet and give it to whatever lad you pick for the journey." Hissing in pain when he twisted around to watch Philippes retrieve the money, Aramis pounded the mattress with his fist as frustration hit him. "Alisanne, if you would be so kind as to go into my saddlebag and get my medical kit from it I could tell you how to mix a herbal draught to ease the pain of my injury."

"Of course." Seeing how much Aramis was suffering, Alisanne wanted to help alleviate his discomfort in anyway she could. "I'll do that right now."

"I appreciate everything both of you have done and are doing for me." Pinching the bridge of his nose, Aramis gave them a wan smile. "My young son is probably very worried about now. My two brothers though are used to missions not going according to schedule."

"You surprise me, Aramis," Alisanne remarked. "I wouldn't have taken you as a settled man."

Explaining how Charles came to be with him and his friends, Aramis' thoughts wandered a bit. He hoped his petit wouldn't unduly upset himself over his lateness. Knowing the tyke had Porthos and Athos caring for him was the only thing that kept Aramis from jumping out of this bed and riding back to Paris straight away.

"I'll go now and get a rider to deliver word to your captain." Leaving them quickly, Philippes gave Alisanne a peck on her cheek.

"I believe I was going to search your saddlebags." Following behind her husband, Alisanne quietly closed the door behind her.

++++

_Notes_

_Voleur_ \- thief  
_Nom de Dieu_ \- God damn it


	36. Chapter 36

_A day later, mid morning - Garrison_

"Tumas, merci." Slapping the youth on the back, Treville could now be easy knowing now what had delayed Aramis. Thus not having to worry upon Athos and Porthos knocking on his door with questions he had no answers for.

Walking over to his desk, Treville came away with several coins in his hand. "I want to give you something for your time, lad." About to drop them into Tumas' palm, he hesitated when the boy held up a hand and shook his head.

"Non." Smiling shyly at the captain, Tumas ducked his head. "Monsieur Aramis already took care of that."

"At least rest and get something to eat at our canteen before returning to your home." Then Treville had an idea, giving voice to it. "Can Aramis travel do you think?"

"I have not had chance yet to meet him nor to see his injury," Tumas replied honestly. "But Monsieur Bellerose told me that Aramis would be weak for awhile."

Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, Treville stared at the youngster. "Mmmmm," he quietly hummed. "Do as I first said, lad, but then come immediately back here. I think I'll have one of my men accompany you back home."

Walking out onto the balcony with Tumas, Treville yelled down at one of his men that was target practicing. "Rene, ready a wagon with blankets and supplies." Observing the soldier head toward the stables, he knew the wagon would be ready in less time than it took him to rouse the regiment for morning muster. "You can ride along in the wagon on the way back." After the lad left, Treville went back inside to grab his chapeau. He needed to talk to Athos and Porthos.

++++

_Courtyard_

"What the hell move do you call that, Muldrac?" Athos yelled, sheathing his own sword.

All Muldrac could do was stare at the ground, as if it held all the answers, while his rapier laid near Athos' boots.

"Pathetic." That one derogatory word, delivered in an acerbic tone, fell on Muldrac like a hammer to a nail. Kicking hard enough at the recruit's sword it lifted from the ground, ending up in Athos' firm grip. Throwing it back at Muldrac, Athos observed that the younger man clumsily caught it. "Go practice with Rene. Perhaps he could teach you how to use that since I've run out of patience."

"Another one, Athos?"

Hearing the question, Athos whirled around to encounter amusement dancing in Treville's blue eyes. "Muldrac has never held a rapier in his entire life."

A lift of one brow told Treville more than any words could on what Athos thoughts were on this latest recruit.

"Tis to be hoped that he'll improve with time and good tutelage." Lips twitching, Treville waved his hand at the recruit to get a move on.

"Did you need me for anything, sir?"

"Actually I came to inform you and Porthos about Aramis." Noting Porthos had just tossed Janvier over his shoulder and onto the ground, Treville waved the man over. When both men stood in front of him, he explained to them what happened to their friend.

++++

_Inseparable's home_

"Papa Mis _was_ hurt." Scowling at both his papas, Charles crossed his arms and glared. See he knew his dream had meant that his papa needed him, despite what his other papas thought.

"We may be in the dog house over this one," Athos murmured to Porthos, the latter was putting together some of Aramis' things the marksman would need. Like an extra set of clothes for one.

"Kid was right," Porthos grunted, continuing to shove articles into a satchel. "Charles certainly is one of us."

"Can I come with you, papa Porth?"

Not expecting that question Porthos glanced at Athos, expecting his older brother to answer the whelp.

"It's not a far piece to travel and from what Treville just told me the boy who came to give us the news will be with you," Athos shrugged. "I do not see a problem. There has been no trouble in that vicinity so you should be safe."

"Does that mean I can go?" Looking at both men Charles bit his lip, uncertain if papa Thos was giving him permission.

"Oui." A whoosh of air escaped Athos when Charles rushed him, encircling his waist with young arms that hugged him tightly.

"Merci, merci!" Before racing off to his room he tugged on papa Thos' hand. "Come help me decide what I should take with me."

Watching both of them go off, Porthos broke out into a wide grin. It would be good for Aramis to see their youngest. Finished packing, it only took a few minutes until Charles joined him. "Come on, kid," he winked. "Don't wanna keep Aramis waiting, eh?"

But before the two of them could leave there came a knock upon their door. When Athos answered it, he was surprised to see Constance standing there. Or perhaps he shouldn't have been. He didn't need to be a mind reader to know what had brought her to their doorstep. "Don't tell me you too would like to go along with Porthos and Charles?"

"Charles is going?" Looking at the happy petit garcon, nearly dancing with excitement, Constance folded her arms and gave Athos an irritated look.

Holding up both hands in surrender before Constance gave him a good tongue lashing, Athos said, "It will be a safe journey. There will be two men along with Charles."

"If you mean that _boy_ outside waiting in the wagon," Constance glared back at him, "I'd say that would be _one and a half men_."

Rubbing the back of his neck, Athos began to feel out of his depth. There were times he thought she would have made a fine Musketeer herself. If Constance could reduce him to near speechlessness what could she do to a regiment of Musketeers, less alone their recruits that quivered in fear whenever Treville or Athos were in their vicinity.

"Uh, Porthos," Athos glanced over at his friend who looked fit to burst with wild laughter. "I believe there will be four of you traveling together."

"Fine," Constance smiled brightly. "I've already put my things in the back of the wagon." Holding out her hand to Charles she waited until the child took it, both of them walked outside together.

"Yup." Having watched Athos squirm under Constance' ire, Porthos had known what the outcome was going to be all along. "She's certainly a match for our Aramis."

"Do me a favor, Porthos." Leaning against the doorframe Athos watched while Constance settled Charles in the back of the wagon beside her. "Make sure nothing happens to either of them." Slapping the larger man on the back Athos added, "Yourself too, mon frere."

++++

_Next day, late morning - the Bellerose's home_

Having dropped off Tumas to the lad's home, Porthos took the youngster's directions leading him to the couple that were caring for Aramis. Pulling on the rein's his team came to a stop. Jumping from the wagon, Porthos lifted his arms up and took the whelp into them. Swinging his son off the wagon he placed Charles gently on the ground. Then he did the same for Constance.

It was then that the door opened and an older couple came outside to greet them. "Bonjour," Alisanne and Philippes cried out together stepping off their porch. Noting the pauldron on the dark-skinned man, they realized he was from the Garrison. But they were surprised to see a young woman and child with him. Having heard from Aramis about Charles they took a leap and guessed that the petit was the Musketeer's son. As to the titian haired young lady, they could only surmise that she was a good friend or else she was in charge of the tot.

"Can I see papa Mis now?" Not waiting for an answer Charles ran for the open door. But the forceful sound of his papa Porth halted his momentum.

"Charles! Ya come back 'ere this minute!" Porthos growled. "Where are you're manners? Ya wait until you're invited inside."

"I'm sorry." Charles apologized to the couple. "I just wanted to make sure papa Mis was okay."

Laughing, Alisanne took the garcon's hand into her own. It had been a long time since they had any petits running around the house. "Come along with me, Charles."

Dutifully Charles obeyed, nearly beside himself with joy at being reunited with his other papa.

++++

_Inside Aramis' bedroom_

Propped up in bed, reading a favorite passage from his bible, Aramis winced as a twinge of pain went through his shoulder. Phillippes had done an excellent job of removing the musketball and patching him up. Having shown Alisanne how to prepare the pain draught had helped Aramis get through the majority of discomfort that went along with his wound. Between the older couple they had fashioned a sling for his right arm, so he wouldn't aggravate the injury further.

When a young, tousled haired whirlwind came bounding into the room, Aramis didn't know why he wasn't surprised. "Mon coeur!" Patting the empty spot on the bed beside him he waited for the petit to join him.

"Papa Mis!" Running over Charles carefully climbed up onto the bed, leaning into his papa's good side. "I told them you were hurt and they didn't believe me."

Confused as to what the poppet was going on about, Aramis was glad to see Porthos entering the room. "What is Charles talking of?"

"Whelp 'ad what Athos and I thought was a nightmare." Sitting down on a chair that Philippes had provided, he grimaced. "Kid told us ya were hurt." Looking at the injury Porthos couldn't wait to see Athos' face when he sees where Aramis' wound was. "Charles even pointed ta 'is own shoulder ta show us. Same place ya got all bandaged up."

Dropping a light kiss upon Charle's head, Aramis hugged his son with his good arm. "Imagine what our petit could do when he gets older."

"Oh Athos and I are tryin' hard _not_ too." Porthos rolled his eyes.

Not sure if his friend merely jested or was serious, Aramis' dark eyes widened even more when he noted a hint of red hair peeking through the partially opened doorway. "Constance! Is that you hiding out there?"

Opening the door fully, Constance blew a piece of hair out of her face. "Where else would I be you silly man?" Flouncing over to another empty chair she pulled it close to Aramis' bedside. "Of course I had to check with Queen Anne first."

"She was all right with you coming along then?" Secretly Aramis was quite pleased at this turn of events. He didn't know why that was really. A Musketeer's life was hazardous at best and Constance wasn't one to be dallied with lightly. If he was seriously considering courting her, Aramis had a lot of hard thinking to do.

"Queen Anne almost put me on the wagon herself," Constance grinned.

"I'm most pleased that Athos let both of you come along with Porthos." Smiling at how prettily Constance could blush Aramis took her hand, squeezing it gently.

"I didn't exactly give Athos any room to say non." Constance then began to look uncomfortable, remembering how she was with the lieutenant of the Musketeers. It was Porthos' loud laughter that brought her out of her thoughts.

"Bold as brass she can be, Mis." His eyes alight with mirth, Porthos ignored the fierce glare Constance threw his way.

"Papa Thos said it would be safe traveling here to get you." Snuggling close to his papa Mis, Charles was content.

"We've brought a wagin' ta take ya back 'ome in." Tugging on Aramis' foot, Porthos smiled at the fond look his friend gave him.

"Before there's talk of going home," Alisanne pleasantly interrupted, "I will fix lunch for all of you."

"Alisanne is a fantastic cook." Winking at the older woman, Aramis chuckled when she shooshed him to be quiet. "You'll be well fed, Porthos."

"And what about us?" Pointing to herself and Charles, Constance' eyes danced.

"Neither of you will have any complaints." Carefully Aramis let Charles sit on his lap. "I suppose you want to hear how I gained my injury?"

Afraid to touch the sling, Charle's eyes latched onto those of his papa's. "Did it hurt very much? Because my shoulder hurt an awful lot."

"I won't white wash it for you, mon coeur." Gently touching his son's cheek Aramis' tone was serious. "The pain was tremendous. Not something I'd recommend anyone to go through," he gave Charles a lopsided grin. "But I've given thanks for stumbling across the Bellerose's. They saved my life and for that I'll be eternally grateful."

"I think I'll get started on that lunch I talked about." Turning to leave Alisanne found Constance beside her.

"Perhaps two pairs of hands are better than one," Constance grinned impishly. "If you're going to feed the lot of us I believe you could use the extra help."

"You're very kind, Constance." Ushering the young lady out of the room, Alisanne followed behind her.

"Are you and Constance betrothed, Aramis?" Ever since the young woman had arrived with the other Musketeer, Phillippes had been curious over it. 

Slapping his thigh, Porthos burst out laughing again. "Ha! That'll be the day when Mis gets 'imself hitched."

Frowning at his brother, Aramis was about to argue the point when Charles spoke up.

"Ooooh!" Charle's doe eyes went wide. "Are you going to marry Constance?"

Opening his mouth, to his surprise, nothing came out. Closing it again, Aramis knew what his answer should have been. But for some reason he didn't say a word. Which wiped the silly smile from Porthos' face instantly.

"Mis?"

"Papa Mis?"

"Ummmm," Aramis' eyes darted back and forth between the other three people in the room. "Anyone for a game of chess?"


	37. Chapter 37

_Same day, right after lunch – the Bellerose’s home_

Shoving the dark-skinned hand gently away with an exasperated look on their faces, Alisanne and Philippes could see that Porthos was surprised by their action.

“Tell your captain merci from us,” Philippes smiled. “But we didn’t take Aramis in for payment of any kind.”

Placing the pouch full of coins Captain Treville had given him back inside his doublet, Porthos could only think that if it were him he would have accepted it. Money didn’t grow on trees, not that he’d heard of. Raised in the Court of Miracles, Porthos could certainly attest to that. The place where he grew up you either had to beg or steal to get enough to feed yourself. “Captin’ Treville wouldn’t a thought that ya ‘ad.”

“The extra money could be put to good use I’m sure.” Trying to change their mind, Aramis looked at the older couple while Constance fussed with a blanket that kept slipping off of his shoulders. Both of them were in the back of the wagon Porthos had arrived in. Already sitting up front, anxious to be home, was young Charles. For the lad had admitted to him how much he already missed Athos.

“Aramis, our needs are few.” Hooking her arm into that of her husband’s, Alisanne shared a loving look with Philippes.

Patting his wife’s hand, Philippes cocked a brow at Aramis. “I’m still able to provide a comfortable life for the two of us. So don’t you go and worry on our behalf.”

Nodding that the message was received, Aramis pursed his lips. He still intended on helping them out some way or the other, whether or not they wanted it. But for now he’d keep his peace on the matter. “Then I give you my thanks once again for taking care of me, feeding the lot of us and providing us with nourishment to see us on our journey back home.”

“You have already expressed your gratitude to us many times over,” Alisanne smiled. “No more are needed.”

Jumping up beside Charles, Porthos took up the reins. Turning he winked at the older couple. “Nice meetin' ya both.” Then as an afterthought he added, “Now don’t go rescuin' and treatin’ any strangers other than Musketeers ya ‘ear me?”

Laughing, both Philippes and Alisanne nodded their heads agreeing with the very large Musketeer.

“Do not be a stranger, Aramis.” Catching the surprise on the younger man's face, Philippes winked at him. “We are not that far from Paris after all.”

“Oui,” Alisanne chimed in. “You and your friends will always be welcomed here.”

“I’ll be sure to take you up on your generous invitation in the future.” Dipping his head, Aramis then waved goodbye. “Au revoir.” The others in his party bid their farewells too.

“Au revoir.” Standing on their porch waving, Alisanne and Philippes were sad to see them leave. Especially petit Charles who, in such a short time, had wormed his way into their hearts.

++++

_Next day, near noon – the Garrison_

“ _PAPA THOS!_ ” Having seen him the moment they rode into the Garrison, Charles was anxious to go to his papa. Jumping into the comfort of his arms, Charles was now content in all things.

Chuckling, with an armful of youthful exuberance, Athos kissed his son’s cheek. “Mon ange, you keep growing on me the way you have and I won’t be able to hold you any longer.”

“Runt does seem ta be ‘avin’ a growth spurt all of a sudden.” Going to the back of the wagon, Porthos helped Constance get out. Then both of them took hold of Aramis to keep the marksman from bumping his wounded shoulder as they eased him to the ground.

Even though Constance was occupied with Aramis, she hadn't missed the exchange between Athos and Porthos. “I’ll have to take Charle’s measurements again and start working on a new set of clothes.” Having offered in the past, Constance didn’t mind doing that for the petit. Actually it was good practice for her in making children’s clothing. She had been finding herself much in demand from the local mothers in the area. Her prices were affordable to them plus her work was nearly flawless.

“I’ve plenty of clothes now.” Confused at her words, Charles looked from Constance to papa Thos. “I don’t need more.”

“First the Belleroses don’t want our money,” Porthos snorted, “now the pipsqueak ‘ere don’t want anythin’ new ta wear.”

“What is the world coming too?” Aramis teased. Knowing full well Porthos' feelings on the matters of _money_ and a new _wardrobe_.

“They refused the money?” Having joined them, Treville thought he had misheard Porthos. But when the man pressed the full pouch of coins into his hands, he could only stare at it blankly. Then, with a rueful smile gracing his features said, “There still are surprises left in this world for me it would seem.”

“They were your kind of people, Captain.” Aramis threw over his shoulder while being guided up the stairs to the infirmary by Porthos.

“They were very down to earth. I've never been so comfortable on so short an acquaintance with anyone before.” Saying that Constance rushed after the two men. She wanted to make sure Aramis didn't make a detour to the nearest tavern before checking with the Garrison's physician first.

Kissing papa Thos on the nose, Charles giggled when his papa wiggled both eyebrows at him. “I’m happy you let me go to see papa Mis.”

Still holding his precious cargo, Athos grinned. “Somehow I had a feeling you might have hidden away on that wagon without my blessing. Leaving me to rapidly go grey with worry.”

“Now that you mention it, Athos,” pretending to look closely at his lieutenant’s dark hair, Treville's fingers reached out to tweak a few pieces, “I do see an odd strand or two of white.”

Making a face at his captain, Athos put Charles back on his feet. “Go on and see what Doctor Devereaux has to say about Aramis.” Watching his young son follow on the heels of his friends Athos caught Treville’s still amused expression. “What?”

“Now that you’re all back together again tis time to start planning for the tyke’s upcoming birthday.”

"Do not tell me King Louis has been pestering you about that while we've been worrying and waiting for Aramis to return?"

Tapping a finger to his lips Treville hummed softly trying to figure out how best to answer the question. "All right I won't... tell you that is."

" _Sacrebleu!_ " Studying the older man's dancing blue eyes, Athos snorted. "Now you are sounding more like my brothers."

"Ah," Treville chuckled. "Tarred and feathered with the same brush I see."

"When does the king need to speak with us?" Giving the captain a _look_ that had Treville laughing even harder, Athos' patience was rapidly waning.

"As soon as Aramis is done being prodded and poked by Devereaux." Slapping his lieutenant on the back, Treville followed Athos to the infirmary to see about their marksman's condition.

++++

_Infirmary_

"Where's Constance?" Looking around the room Treville didn't see the young woman anywhere.

"Oh she had to leave," Charles said. "Queen Anne sent for her."

"Funny I didn't see any messenger running into the Garrison." Dwelling on that, Treville nearly missed Athos' raised brow.

"We were rather occupied outside to take any notice." Glancing at Treville, Athos noted the officer's lips twitching.

"Mmmmm, rather," Treville agreed. Walking over to the bed where Aramis currently resided, he looked at the doctor. "Bien, how's my man?"

"They did an excellent job of removing the musketball and then wrapping the wound afterwards. Not even a fever to speak of." Then Devereaux became momentarily lost in thought, only coming out of it upon hearing the captain clearing his throat. "Apologies," he grimaced. "I was just thinking I could use an extra pair of hands around here and this Philippes sounded like he'd be a good fit."

"Trust me when I say the man's quite happy where he's at." Getting up from the bed, Aramis ruffled Charle's hair. Causing his son to scowl up at him with displeasure. "May I be released now?"

"Oui. Under several conditions, young man," Devereaux bit out. "Keep that sling on and no trying to use that arm. I mean it, Aramis," he sternly warned, knowing what trouble the younger Musketeer always seemed to find. Just because Devereaux was stuck in the infirmary most of the time, didn't mean he didn't know what the inseparables got up to. Especially the marksman. "If I catch you even trying to shoot your musket at a target I'll lock you up in the infirmary so fast your head would spin."

"Duly noted, Doctor," Aramis dipped his head.

"Papa Mis won't disobey you," Charles spoke up. "I'll watch him."

"Aramis has a penchant for not following orders, Charles." Trying to keep a straight face Devereaux could see how serious the child was being. "But if he has you to care for him I trust that will be enough."

"See, papa Mis," Charles beamed. "You'll be fine with me."

"This I gotta see," Porthos said out of the side of his mouth to Athos.

"I believe our poppet will need us to help in that endeavor." Smiling into his brother's dark eyes, Athos was thinking about His Majesty and what the young monarch's plans would be for their child's birthday.

"Oh yeah. I can see it now," Porthos grunted. "It's gonna be a barrel of laughs around the house."

With the physician's warning still ringing in his ears Aramis took Charles by the hand, leading him out of the infirmary with the others following closely.

++++

_Shortly after - Royal Palace, King Louis' chambers_

Since Aramis had to stay home, it was up to Athos and Porthos to present themselves to His Majesty. They met up with Captain Treville at his office and from there they all went to the palace together.

Almost dancing with delight King Louis was pleased to see his old fox, Athos and Porthos enter his chambers. He understood why Aramis hadn't come along. The Musketeer needed to rest after the injury he had sustained. He doubted traveling back to Paris in a wagon had helped the soldier's wound either. Motioning for the men to take a seat King Louis signaled a page that was waiting for orders. "Bring us some refreshments." After the lad had left, King Louis seated himself as well.

"Gentlemen, we have some plans to make," King Louis' face was alight with glee. "Where should we start?" In his happiness, he failed to hear the quiet groans from the three men.

++++

_The inseparable's home_

"Papa Mis," Charle's huffed for the umpteenth time, "you're supposed to be in bed resting."

"Who said?" Aramis complained. As soon as he arrived home, all he wanted was a glass of wine. But his son kept insisting he was supposed to go immediately to bed. Nothing seemed to sway the petit from his course.

"I do." Stamping his foot, Charle's chin jutted out stubbornly.

Knowing what _that_ particular look meant for him Aramis sighed, giving up. Guess that glass of wine would have to wait until dinner. Trudging to his room he divested himself of his leathers. When he turned around Charles was standing there holding out Aramis' nightshirt. "What are you? My personal valet?"

"I told the doctor I was going to take care of you and I am," Charles insisted. He stood there until his papa put on the nightshirt and got into bed. "Before Constance left she said she'd let Serge know to send lunch over for us."

"Room service... how nice." Sliding under the covers, Aramis wondered what else he was to expect. Though he would have preferred Constance to deliver the food herself, Aramis knew she would be tied up with the queen and Her Majesty's wants always came first. "Now don't get into trouble while I'm resting, mon coeur."

"I'm not the only one one who gets into _trouble_ around here, papa." Closing the door when he left the room, Charle's missed the stunned expression that crossed his papa's face.

_Ouch_ , Aramis thought, knowing his son no doubt had been listening to stories other Musketeers had been telling Charles about the inseparable's escapades. Feeling like he was the child and Charles the adult, Aramis found himself duly chastised. Despite telling himself he wasn't a bit tired, his eyelids suddenly became too heavy to keep open. Drifting off to sleep Aramis missed hearing the bedroom door slowly creak open.

Peeking into the room, Charles was satisfied that papa Mis was sleeping peacefully. He would make sure that his papa followed Doctor Devereaux's orders, even if he had to sit on him in order to do so.


	38. Chapter 38

_A week later_

_Late morning - the inseparable's home_

The following week had been anything but fun for Aramis. Nearly everywhere he turned, there was petit Charles watching him like a hawk. He took his duties caring for him very seriously. Too seriously for Aramis' peace of mind. He couldn't even breathe without tripping over the garcon.

Then there was the fact he had to keep his arm in this damn sling! The only thing good about it was when he did go out for a brisk stroll, in the crisp winter air, it brought him to the attention of the lovely ladies that passed his way. Tipping his chapeau at them, a secretive smile played about his lips. He loved to flirt. He enjoyed the thrill of the chase. He really liked Constance. But did that mean he wanted a long-term relationship with her that ended with wedding bells?

Constance wasn't a young woman whose heart could be trifled with. Perhaps they needed to talk to one another and discuss where their flirtation was heading. For Aramis knew he was too young to be contemplating marriage with anyone. Not wanting to hurt her, for she had been a good friend to him, his brothers and Charles, Aramis prayed once they got their feelings sorted Constance would feel the same way as he.

"Papa Mis!" Worried because he couldn't find his papa, Charles was about to look outside.

"I'm here," Aramis drawled, lounging in their kitchen, sipping at a glass of red wine. He was bored out of his mind and having Charles checking up on him again was driving him to distraction. Placing his glass down Aramis threw both of his hands up in the air as if in surrender. "I swear I haven't gone out that door as yet today. I'm just sitting here minding my own business," his voice dripped with sarcasm. Wincing at the tone he used on his son, Aramis just couldn't stop the way it came out.

Frowning, Charles never quite heard his papa speak to him like that before. Lower lip trembling, his eyes began to fill up with tears. No more words could he utter. His papa was mad at him which needed no explanation. Running into his room, Charles ignored papa Mis' anxious voice calling out to him.

Merde! Aramis could have kicked himself. It was like hurting a petit puppy. Even Alex was mad at him. The petite kitten stood there hissing at Aramis, while guarding the entrance to Charle's bedroom. Looking at her, he pursed his lips together. Squatting down he shook a finger at Alex. "I'm going to apologize so don't try to stop me." It was as if the kitten understood him. Her tiny back had been arched in attack mode then at his words she relaxed, stepping aside. 

Quietly entering the tyke's room, Aramis felt like the world's biggest heel. There laid Charles on top of his bed crying his heart out. It was a good thing that Porthos and Athos were on duty at the Garrison. They'd tear him apart for doing this to their child.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Aramis ran his fingers through Charle's long, dark hair. "Time to take you into the city again for a trim." The hiccuping sounds his son made were like a stab to Aramis' heart. Leaning down he placed a kiss on the back of Charle's head. "I am so very sorry for the way I spoke. My only excuse is that I hate lying about doing nothing. Being stuck within these walls is driving me crazy."

Sniffling, knuckling the tears away, Charles sat up crossing his legs. With red-rimmed, puffy eyes he gazed warily back at his papa. "I'm not helping am I?" The more he thought about it Charles guessed he was part of the reason papa Mis was upset. He must be growing up for him to understand that now.

Chuckling, Aramis shook his head. "You have been of great help to me, mon coeur." Brushing fingers through his own dark curls, he sighed. "I do not like inactivity and this," Aramis pointed to his sling, "isn't helping matters."

"Would you like to go to the barn and help me feed Zad? You could hold the bucket of feed with your good arm."

"Oui," Aramis smiled. "Very much." Fences mended, or so he hoped, he took his son by the hand leading them both out into the winter chill with Alex taking up the rear.

++++

_Garrison_

"Hey, Athos!" Serge called out, trying to reach the younger man before Athos took the steps leading to Captain Treville's office. "What are the plans for Charle's birthday?"

Rubbing his chin, Athos shrugged. "Charles told us that he didn't need anything. Just wanted to spend the day with us at home."

"We can't have that," Serge scoffed. "We'll figure something else out." Slapping Athos on the back Serge went back to the canteen.

He had wanted to inform Serge that Louis already had figured _something_ out but the older man scurried away before Athos could tell him that. Having an urgent need to speak with Treville, he had taken a much needed break from teaching rudiments of the sword to men who apparently had nothing between their ears. Taking the stairs two at a time Athos heard the unmistakable sounds of blades clashing against each other. Leaning over the rail he caught sight of Edgard about to be stuck like a pig at the end of Zacharie's sword. As cold as it was outdoors those two idiots had decided to play in the snow. Swearing a blue streak, Athos hastily went back down the stairs toward the pair of recruits muttering the entire time about petit garcons and birthday parties.

++++

_Garrison stables_

"Porthos!" Out of breath from running, Constance had been searching for the larger Musketeer everywhere until Dufort took pity on her and told her where to find him. She was already late for an appointment with Anne. Her Majesty needed her latest gown taken in at the waist. "Porthos!"

"In the second stall!" Porthos yelled. Brushing down Roulette he wondered what the young woman wanted.

"Oh there you are," she smiled. "Things have been so hectic around here lately I haven't had a time to talk to you, Athos or Aramis about Charle's upcoming birthday."

"Whelp wants nothin'." Placing the brush he held into an empty pail Porthos leaned against a post, giving Constance his full attention. "Just us and to stay at home." Scratching his beard, he shook his head. "King Louis though has other plans."

"Ah!" Anne had said as much to her about it but Constance wanted to know what arrangements the inseparables had for a celebration at home.

"How's this sound to you? I'll bake a cake and some other pastries while you and the others take care of the beverages."

"I can do cake," Porthos grinnned. "But the kid still don't want gifts."

"Try telling that to His Majesty." Laughing, Constance winked at him. "I've got to get to the palace. I'll talk to all of you later."

++++

_Mid afternoon - the inseparable's home_

Both Aramis and Athos stood dumbfounded as their son stared up at them wearing a most satisfying expression. They realized that Charles had come to some type of decision over something. They were shortly informed as to what it was which left them both in a state of near shock. Flummoxed, they could only stare at Charles like the child had grown two heads. 

"Let me get this straight, mon ange." Athos took in a deep breath. "In lieu of birthday gifts you want us to pitch in money to give to Flea over at the Court?"

"That's what I want for my birthday present." Thinking it an excellent idea, after having listened to papa Porth telling him stories of what it was like to grow up in the Court, Charles didn't understand why his other papas thought it a strange request. "I want to go with papa Porth too and give Miss Flea the money."

Nonplussed, Athos could only stare opened mouthed at Aramis. Collecting himself he asked, "Does Porthos know of this?"

"As of this morning Porthos was under the assumption that all Charles wanted was a quiet birthday here with us." Easing his arm out of the sling to work out a cramped muscle, Aramis caught the scowl on Charle's face. "Do not worry I will put it back in the sling shortly, petit doctor." Listening to Athos' chuckles, Aramis' own lips curled upward.

"Somewhere along the line Charles and Porthos must have been discussing the conditions at the Court for our son to have asked this of us," Athos spoke quietly to his brother. "Also Porthos must have mentioned Flea along the way." Picking up his poppet he held him close, kissing the tip of Charle's nose. "You have a kind heart, mon ange."

"I know," Charles gave papa Thos an impish grin. "You're always telling me that."

As soon as Athos put the garcon back down, Charles ran off to his room chasing Alex inside with him.

"Wait until Porthos gets wind of this," Aramis said followed by an expressive roll of his dark eyes.

"Bien," Athos shrugged nonchalantly, "at least now we know what Charles wants for his birthday."

++++

_Garrison courtyard_

Eustis caught Captain Treville as the older officer was running through some basic training maneuvers with several new recruits. "Captain, may I see you for a moment?"

Glad to have a break from the lessons Treville was trying to execute, he turned to Basile. "Watch them and make sure they don't kill themselves. I'm not sure that Chandlier knows that's a sword he's holding." The snuff of laughter from Basile brought an answering smile to Treville's lips. Joining Eustis, he sheathed his sword. "What can I help you with?"

"The boys and I were wondering what to get Charles for his birthday? Have you any ideas what the lad would want?" Having been meaning to talk to the inseparables, Eustis just hadn't found the time. So the captain was the next best thing.

Wiping his brow, Treville thought on that a moment. Frowning, he gave Eustis an odd look. "To tell you the truth I haven't thought upon it over much. I remember asking Charles but he kept telling everyone within listening distance he doesn't want or need anything."

"Mmmmm," Eustis hummed. What the captain told him hadn't helped very much. In fact, not at all. "Guess we'll have to speak to Athos, Aramis or Porthos after all."

"If I find out anything further before you do I'll let you know." Hearing Basile yelling at Chandlier and Eloy, Treville figured he better hurry back to them before Basile spilled any blood.

Laughing upon the scene, involving Chandlier and Eloy both on the ground with a fuming Basile standing above them brandishing his blade in the air, Eustis walked away shaking his head. Thoughts of birthday presents pushed to the back of his mind.


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes below.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, late afternoon_

_The inseparable's home_

After Porthos was through for the day, he entered the house only to be confronted by his friends. Usually good at reading faces those of Athos and Aramis stumped him this time. That's when they hit him with the news of what the whelp wanted for his birthday. "Runt must a got that idea stuck in 'is 'ead while I was tellin' 'im bedtime stories of what it was like ta live there."

"Aramis and I talked it over and if tis what our son wants," Athos smiled at his large friend, "we'll pool our resources together and get it done."

"Works for me. I'm sure Flea will appreciate Charle's grand gesture." In fact Porthos knew she'd be right pleased. "Where's the kid anyway?"

"Playing with Alex in his room," Aramis offered. "Thinking it was too cold to take her outside he decided to stay in."

Scratching at his chin, Athos studied both men. "I'm not quite sure what Charles has inside that head of his," he grimaced, "and truthfully I was afraid to ask." To that statement Aramis and Porthos began to laugh. "But our petit mentioned to me that he needed to talk to His Majesty and Cardinal Richelieu on the morrow." Trying very hard not to worry upon it, Athos failed dismally. He knew it somehow involved Charle's birthday, which didn't help matters.

"Squirt's not afraid ta speak 'is mind. We all know that by now." Seeing Aramis wince, Porthos' face broke out into a wide grin. "'I know I've mentioned it before. 'E's our whelp, perhaps not by blood, but Mon Dieu the kid's got guts!"

"I'd drink to that," Athos slowly drawled, "but it seems our cupboard is bare."

Snapping his fingers, Porthos sadly shook his head. "I've been meanin' ta pick us up a few bottles. Just 'aven't 'ad the time."

"If we're to bring Charles to the palace on the morrow," Aramis glanced at the empty wine cabinet, "whichever one of us brings him back home could make a stop into the city to purchase more wine."

"We 'ave ta make sure ta get enough for a small party." His suggestion produced raised eyebrows from Athos and Aramis. "Talked ta Constance earlier taday about the pipsqueak's birthday."

"You made sure to tell her that he wanted to spend it here with us?" Crossing his arms, Athos stared back at him.

"Oui. Then Constance told me she'd bake a cake along with other pastries as long as we'd supply the beverages."

"Better add juice to that list for our poppet." Grinning, Aramis thought upon the sweetness that was Constance. A _sweetness_ he could get addicted too. Once again his wayward thoughts were taking him down a road he had promised himself he wouldn't travel for a long, long time if at all. But it was hard to stop thinking of her in that way.

"Fine," Athos nodded. "That takes care of that then. But King Louis is still bent on throwing a big party for Charles the day after." Rolling his eyes, Athos heaved a great sigh. "Though I believe Queen Anne will try to curb His Majesty from becoming too extravagant."

"What did our young monarch have to say when you two met with him?" Having meant to quiz his comrades earlier, Aramis was very curious especially after seeing Athos' eyeroll.

Rubbing his forehead as if a headache were forming, Athos glared down at his boots with an unreadable expression upon his face. "Among other things," he glanced up at them, "I do believe a carrousel was to be the highlight of the celebration." Hearing Aramis whistle through his teeth Athos tilted his head to the side, still rubbing his forehead with a thumb. "My sentiments exactly."

"On another note," Aramis looked directly at Porthos, "why don't we deliver Charle's gifts to Flea the day before our garcon's natal day?"

"I’m for it." Porthos readily agreed, a long with a firm nod from Athos. "Now what's for dinner, I’m starvin’?"

++++

_Next day - Royal Palace_

Since the tyke was at the palace, a squad of Musketeers stood at attention in the background guarding Charles. As wherever the petit garcon went trouble soon followed.

“I hear you wanted to ask something of us.” Indicating himself and Cardinal Richelieu, who stood beside him, King Louis waited for the youngster to speak up.

“Merci, for seeing me.” Bowing his head in respect he then lifted it up to lock bright, dark eyes upon the king. “I told my papas all I wanted for my birthday was to give money to the people who lived in the Court of Miracles.”

“You want...” Richelieu swallowed hard, “what?’ His voice came out an octave higher than usual. Surprising even himself at the unlikely sound. Collecting his thoughts he and Louis listened intently to the child’s words.

“They have so little,” Charles said. “I feel I’ve been given much.”

“How old will the garcon be?” Leaning toward the king, Richelieu whispered that in His Majesty’s ear.

Hiding his laughter behind a hand, King Louis spoke low enough so Charles couldn’t hear him. “Four.”

“Could have fooled me,” Richelieu muttered, while his monarch’s soft chuckles assailed his ears.

Getting the impression that the cardinal wasn’t too keen on his idea, Charles was hesitant to approach them now on his plan. Getting a prod in the back from papa Porth, he carried on anyway. “Would it be too much to ask instead of gifts…” pausing, feeling overcome with a bout of shyness, Charles glanced over his shoulder at his papas. Noting the thumbs up of encouragement from all of them he pulled in a deep breath. “Would it be all right with you both to give them medical supplies, blankets and food?” He dared not mention clothing, feeling as if he's already asked too much of them.

Clearing his throat, rather more loudly than necessary, Richelieu arched an eyebrow astounded by the cheek of the lad’s. “Answer me this, Charles.” Not breaking eye contact with the petit, he bent down to the garcon’s level. “What do you want to do when you are older?” Holding up one finger, just as the child opened his mouth, Richelieu slyly added, “If I like the answer I’ll agree to your wishes.”

“Oh come now.” Glaring at the cardinal, King Louis was miffed. “I say that’s not fair. He’s only going to be four years of age.”

Ignoring the king, for the moment, Richelieu’s foot tapped impatiently upon the tiled floor waiting for the response he knew was to come.

“A _Muskyteer!_ ” Charles proudly announced to the applause of the rest of the Musketeers present, including his papas.

“Wrong answer I’m afraid.” Smiling pleasantly Richelieu felt he had won, but hoped he hadn’t hurt Charle's feelings. Getting a powerful nudge in his side from the king was not something expected. Bewildered, Richelieu stared at the young monarch’s fierce expression directed solely at him.

“ _Wrong answer!_ ” King Louis hissed at him, angry as a spitting cat. “You better quickly change your mind about that.”

“Anything but giving aid to those layabouts,” Richelieu grumbled, not caring in the slightest that his words carried over to tiny ears or even bigger ones present.

“Not even for young Charles?” Tisking over his cardinal’s attitude, King Louis knelt before the garcon. “I at least,” he shot a menacing look again toward Richelieu, “intend on doing my part.” It was a good thing that he and Anne hadn't commissioned any gifts to be made yet for the child. But he still fully intended Charles to enjoy his natal day at the palace, regardless of the lack of presents.

“Merci.” Reaching out Charles hugged the king, kissing the young monarch’s cheek.

“Richelieu…” Raising his own brow, King Louis sent a silent message of his own.

“Oh very well.” Stifling a groan, Richelieu gave a jerky nod of assent to a pleased Charles.

Crooking a finger at His Eminence, Charles waited for the cardinal to bend down. Throwing his arms around the older man’s neck, he hugged and kissed his cheek as well.

“Tell me _that_ wasn’t worth giving your agreement?” Gently taunting the cardinal, King Louis winked at him.

“I admit nothing of the kind, Sire.” Though a very tiny smile graced Richelieu's lips.

“When do you need the items made ready?” Addressing the youngster, it was Porthos' deep voice that responded to King Louis' question instead.

"Kid wants us ta deliver it tagether day before 'is birthday."

"Charles wants to accompany you?" This took King Louis by surprise as it did the cardinal judging by the scowl forming on His Eminence's face.

"Not without a contingent of soldiers." Richelieu all but growled out his displeasure at the idea. "Riff raff the lot of them. They'd rob their mothers blind if they could and that's if any of them had mothers to begin with."

Stepping forward, Porthos' dark face was flushed with fury. "Don't tar and feather all of 'em with the same brush, Cardinal." Feeling Aramis trying to pull him back from His Eminence, Porthos shook his brother's arm off. It wasn't like he was going to slug Richelieu, though the idea held merit as Athos would say.

"Papa Porth told me some of the people that live there fell on hard times." Tugging on the cardinal's robes, Charles gazed up into the man's angry face. "Not all are bad."

"Neither is Flea," Porthos added, seeing Richelieu mouth her name to the king.

"What the deuce does an insect have to do with what we're discussing?" Perplexed at how everyone even King Louis gawked at him, Richelieu frowned wondering about their odd reaction.

"Even I know what she represents to the Court." Rolling eyes at the cardinal, King Louis huffed, momentarily annoyed with him.

"She's known as their queen and is the woman in charge at the Court." Hoping that cleared everything up nicely for the cardinal, Athos kept an eye on Porthos who gave all the appearance of still being upset with Richelieu.

" _Queen!_ " Richelieu scoffed. "France has only one... _Queen Anne_."

"Porthos explained to me that she protects and cares for her people just like," Charles smiled at King Louis, "our own king and queen do for us."

"Cardinal," King Louis interrupted, "Flea's runners have been of great import to my old fox and Musketeers." Noting His Eminence' mouth open and close without saying a word, he chuckled. "Mmmmm," King Louis hummed pleasantly. "Come, Richelieu," he urged. "You know I'm right about the runners at least. Even if you do pretend to know nothing about her."

Head hanging down Cardinal Richelieu refused to look at any of them, preferring to mumble under his breath instead.

"Eh," King Louis broke out in laughter at the man's stubborness. "I didn't quite make that out."

A loud sigh escaping him, Richelieu shot the young king an aggrieved look. "Oui. The runners have been quite helpful. I won't deny that." Still unhappy about Charles tagging along with the soldiers, he shook a single finger at the garcon's innocent looking face. "I still want you guarded at all times, petit. I do not want a repeat performance as what happened with Vadim."

This time it was a long drawn out sigh from Charles that had everyone trying not to show their amusement. "I promise to stay close to my papas."

It was usually unwise to listen to children or so Richelieu always believed. Bumping shoulders with the young king, he lowered his voice. "Why do I not feel relieved to hear that?"

++++

_Notes:_

In _French carousel is spelled – carrousel_ and were seen as early as the 17th century in Europe.

  
Here’s a tiny bit of history on them from Wikipedia:

The name _carrousel_ refers to a type of military dressage, an equine demonstration now commonly called military drill.  
The modern carousel emerged from early jousting traditions in Europe and the Middle East. Knights would gallop in a circle while tossing balls from one to another; an activity that required great skill and horsemanship. This game was introduced to Europe at the time of the Crusades from earlier Byzantine and Arab traditions.  
The word carousel originated from the Italian garosello and Spanish carosella ("little battle", used by crusaders to describe a combat preparation exercise and game played by Turkish and Arabian horsemen in the 12th century). This early device was essentially a cavalry training mechanism; it prepared and strengthened the riders for actual combat as they wielded their swords at the mock enemies.  
By the 17th century, the balls had been dispensed with, and instead the riders had to spear small rings that were hanging from poles overhead and rip them off. Cavalry spectacles that replaced medieval jousting, such as the ring-tilt, were popular in Italy and France. The game began to be played by commoners, and carousels soon sprung up at fairgrounds across Europe.  
At the _Place du Carrousel in Paris_ , an early make believe carousel was set up with wooden horses for the children. The _Place du Carrousel (ka-ru-zel)_ is a public square in the 1st arrondissement of Paris, located at the open end of the courtyard of the Louvre Palace, a space occupied, prior to 1883, by the Tuileries Palace. Sitting directly between the museum and the Tuileries Garden, the _Place du Carrousel_ delineates the eastern end of the gardens just as the Place de la Concorde defines its western end. The _Place du Carrousel_ was named in 1662, when it was used for such a display by Louis XIV.


	40. Chapter 40

_Same day, late morning - shortly after Charle’s meeting with King Louis and Cardinal Richelieu_

“Don’t get too far ahead of us!” Athos yelled out to his son. “I do not feel like playing hide and seek!”

“I’m only going to see Serge!” Shouting back at papa Thos, Charles then made a beeline for the canteen.

“Kid’s happy don’t ya think?” Pleased with how Charles neatly wrapped the king around his petit finger again, Porthos laughed. “Nearly ‘ad the cardinal eating out of ‘is ‘and too.”

“Oh I wouldn’t go that far, mon ami,” Aramis snickered. “I will admit to being surprised that His Eminence not only agreed but is also going to send along some Red Guards with our Musketeers when we go see Flea.”

“I’m gonna get a message ta ‘er warning Flea what to expect,” Porthos said. “Don’t wanna ‘ave ‘er thinkin’ we’ve come ta make trouble.”

“Sound thinking, Porthos.” Athos agreed, still keeping one eye on Charles.

“Why is our son so eager to see Serge all of a sudden?” Quirking one brow high, Aramis exchanged puzzled looks with his friends.

“I believe chocolate eclairs are to be involved.” His tone dry, Athos graced his brothers with a slight smile. "At least tis what Serge promised the child next time Charles came to the Garrison."

"How did Serge know we were bringing him with us today?" Aramis too kept close watch on the petit. It wouldn't do to lose him and face the wrath of King Louis, Captain Treville or Richelieu if that were to happen again.

"Since we sent word to Constance asking her if she could watch Charles today I would assume she mentioned it to Serge in passing." Admitting to himself that a few eclairs wouldn't go amiss today, Athos was nearly as eager as his son to reach the canteen.

“Somehow I don't see Serge bakin' eclairs?" Porthos remarked. "Too dainty for the likes o' 'im ta try 'is 'and at." Curious all the more now, Porthos caught Aramis’ eye. Mouthing the word _eclairs_ much to the marksman’s amusement as Aramis began to laugh.

“I guess we’ll discover that for ourselves when we get there.” Following Charles, Aramis was right behind the child when the garcon entered the canteen ahead of him.

++++

_Inside the canteen_

Eyeing the petit, who had already taken a seat at an empty table, Charles appeared in heaven happily eating his sweet treat. Removing his chapeau, Athos sat down beside the youngster noting as well that Serge had also supplied the tyke with a glass of milk. Watching his son seeming so carefree gladdened Athos’ heart.

“When did ya learn ta make eclairs?’ Seeing a plate full of them sitting on the table near Charles, Porthos leaned over and snatched one up in his large hand. After polishing it off he wondered why the runt was giggling at him that way. “What’s so amusin’ pipsqueak?”

Pointing to the chocolate cream covered mustache on papa Porth, Charles kept giggling. He was joined by snorts of amusement from papa Thos and papa Mis too. “You look funny, papa.”

“Huh?” He didn’t get it. Why was everyone laughing at him? Out of the corner of his eye, he even caught Serge unsuccessfully hiding a huge smile. Seeing Aramis pointing at his own mustache, it was then that Porthos got the hint. Touching the hairs above his mouth, his finger came away with chocolate cream. Eyes crinkling up in the corners as a booming laugh escaped him Porthos simply shrugged his broad shoulders, swiped at his mustache, then reached for another éclair.

“Constance gave me the recipe.” Offering the men a huge grin, Serge slyly added with a wink at Porthos, “She got it from _Louise_.” Gazing at the larger Musketeer with a knowing look, he chuckled. “Said you two were acquainted.”

Nearly choking on his third éclair at the old man's words Porthos almost swallowed it whole, amidst snickers from Athos and Aramis. Getting himself under control, he glared at the former Musketeer. “Yeah, ya could say that.”

Murmuring from the side of his hand, Aramis glanced at Athos. “Oh I believe we could say more than _that_ but Charles is present.” Listening to Athos’ low laughter, Aramis allowed his own lips to tilt upward.

While everyone enjoyed their dessert, it was then that another group of Musketeers entered the canteen. Upon seeing the inseparables with Charles, they took the empty table next to them.

“ _Eclairs!_ ” Eustis announced loudly, positively stunned to see a dessert like that being served here. “Really?" His head swiveled around toward his friends. "I mean... _eclairs_?”

“Constance gave Serge the recipe.” Repeating what was told to them Athos slyly added, “It came from _Louise_ who works in the palace kitchen.”

“Ah, that explains it then.” Paul knew, as many did, the on again off again relationship Porthos had with her.

“Explains _what_ exactly?” Porthos growled to the other man, making Paul squirm in his chair.

“Mmmmm,” Paul politely hummed. “Nothing of great import, mon frere.”

“Humpf!” Licking his fingers, Porthos winked at Charles’ curious face. “Nothin’ for your petit ears ta ‘ear, kid.”

“I bet,” Athos whispered under his breath, much to the delight of Aramis.

Signaling for Athos to sit with them for they didn't want Charlies to listen in, Germain had a question for the other Musketeer. “Athos, we have already asked the captain about what to get Charles for his birthday.”

“He wasn’t really much help.” Drinking his coffee, Dufort hoped Athos could give them an idea or two.

Rubbing his chin, Athos took in the five men sitting around him. “Bien,” he shrugged, “tis like this…” Going into a lengthy explanation of what Charles wants to do, Athos noted the looks the men all exchanged with one another. “Porthos, Aramis and myself intend to pool our finances together.”

“Charles actually got the king and cardinal to agree to send the Court food, blankets and medicine?” Merle couldn’t believe it. Then again this was Charles. It seemed anything was possible around the lad.

“Er, oui.” Re-joining his table again Athos smirked upon noting Eustis’ open-mouthed astonishment. Leaving the men to discuss their options, he began drinking his mug of coffee.

Looking upon Serge oddly, Aramis just had to ask since it was still bothering him. “Why eclairs?”

Giving Aramis a roll of his eyeballs, Serge cackled. “Why not?”

“Ain’t much of an answer,” Porthos grunted.

“Thought it may give the canteen a bit of posh,” Serge winked at the inseparables. “If ya know what I mean.” Then he scurried off when the smell of burnt bread reached his nose. “ _Hells bells!_ ” Serge yelled at his kitchen help. “Why ain’t either of ya watchin’ over the oven like I told ya?”

Hearing the old man hollering at his young helpers gave the inseparables considerable amusement. But it seemed Charles took exception to it, becoming upset.

“Why is Serge mad at them?” His brown eyes locked with papa Thos' blue ones, waiting for an answer.

“Mon ange,” Athos smiled tenderly at the petit garcon, “you know how we have rules for you?” At the nod of Charle’s head, he reached over to ruffle the lad’s hair. “There are rules for others too. As you get older, petit, you’ll understand this better.”

“Still,” Charle’s huffed, “Serge shouldn’t shout at them like that.” Getting up from his chair he was about to head for the kitchen but a heavy hand clamped onto his arm. Scowling down at it his eyes lifted up to see papa Porth shaking his head at him.

“Now, kid,” continuing to shake his head at his son, Porthos shook a finger at the whelp for good measure, “Ya ain’t gonna come between a man and ‘is staff.”

Stomping his feet, Charle’s chin jutted out. He wondered why just then that all three of his papas began to groan. “Why can't I?"

“I fear Charles is at that age where he is going to question everything.” Aramis sighed, pulling his chapeau low over his eyes as if he didn’t want anyone to recognize him.

“Perhaps I _should_ intervene before Serge throws pots and pans at poor Valere and Odilon.” Shoving his chair back, Athos got up. It was then that two young men rushed past him and straight out the door.

Wiping burnt bread crust from his apron, Serge’s face wore a sheepish expression when he encountered all eyes on him. “Anyone know where I can get some decent help?”

++++

_Shortly after leaving the canteen - Constance's home_

"Our thanks for taking Charles on such short notice, Constance." Bowing over her hand Aramis placed a light kiss upon it.

"Away with you, Aramis," she pushed the younger Musketeer aside. "I've promised myself to not succumb to your considerable charms any longer." With a swish of her skirts, Constance turned around ushering the men inside her house.

Seeing Aramis appear surprised at Constance's words, Porthos nudged Athos in the ribs. "I didn't know 'e 'ad any charms." Glancing at his eldest brother he snickered. "Did ya?"

Pushing his chapeau back from his forehead, Athos grinned. "Neither did I." Crossing his arms a smirk spread across his face. "Though to be honest I usually ignore Aramis when he chats up a mademoiselle or a madame."

Glaring at his brothers, Aramis lips pursed. "Silence is golden you know."

"Non, we did not know that," Athos teased.

"Incorrigible," Constance giggled. "The lot of you." Watching Charles go directly to a chest full of toys she kept in her sewing room for him, she was happy that the moppet would be kept quite occupied. "Since the queen didn't need me today this worked out well as I'll be catching up on a few orders for several of my customers."

"We will be sure to pick him up promptly before dinner." Smiling his thanks Athos went over to where Charles sat on the floor. The pup had opened up the chest and spread out all the toys around him. "Do not get into mischief while you are with her, mon ange."

"Why do you always think I'll get into trouble?" Playing with a wooden top, Charles missed his papa's eyeroll.

"Because you do." Bending low Athos dropped a swift kiss to the tyke's forehead.

"Yeah, whelp." Doing the same thing, Porthos kissed the top of Charle's head. "Stay inside and listen ta Constance."

When papa Mis approached him, Charles held up his hand. "I know... behave."

"Since you know then I won't have to remind you, imp." Grinning devilishly Aramis too kissed the garcon on the cheek.

As the inseparables made their way back out, Constance grabbed Athos' arm. "Her Majesty told me what Charles asked of King Louis and Cardinal Richelieu."

Sighing, Athos gave all the appearance of a man that's heard it all before. "Word does travel fast," he said quite dryly.

"Charles is to accompany all of you to the Court of Miracles." Her face a picture of concern, Constance glanced sideways at the child who remained blissfully unaware of the turmoil rolling within her. "Are you sure he'll be all right going there?"

"Our pup will be safe considering he'll be surrounded by a group of Musketeers and Red Guards combined," Athos retorted. "Apologies. I didn't mean to sound so abrupt."

"It was my fault," Constance admitted. "I ask too many questions. Always have." Opening the door for them, as they were about to leave, suddenly she felt the skin prickle on the back of her neck. Turning around she came face to face with Aramis who wore a strange expression.

"May I ask what made you say your earlier remark in regards to my, ummmm, er... charms?"

"You may ask but that doesn't mean I'll answer." Continuing to hold the door open, Constance didn't clue him in until he had stepped outside. "If you must know nearly everyone had heard of your late night rendezvous with Madame Viviette last eve." Slamming the door behind the marksman Constance caught Charles watching her.

"Papa Mis upset you?"

"You could say that, young one." Gathering up her bolts of material Constance placed them side by side on a table to decide which color to start with first.

"I'm going to visit Miss Flea at the Court," Charles announced to her. "We're going there the day before my birthday."

"Just take care when you do go," Constance warned. Looking for her needle and threads she settled down into her favorite chair and began to make her stitches.

"I can take care of myself. Don't know why everyone worries," Charles all but whined.

"You have a natural talent for finding trouble." Weaving her needle in and out of the fabric, Constance hid her growing smile from the petit. Listening to him mutter to himself about the adults in his life nearly made her laugh out loud. But she needed to concentrate on making these stitches as small and neat as possible, leaving Charles to dwell on her words.

++++

_On the way back to the Garrison_

"So that's where ya went after we ate dinner last eve." Satisfied that he now knew where Aramis had gone, Porthos bumped his shoulder against the younger man. "Two timin' Constance already, eh?"

Looking at his friend, as if Porthos had grown two very large heads, Aramis sputtered. " _Two...two timing!_ " Shoving the larger man away from him, Aramis' flushed face expressed the anger he felt at the question. "I'll have you know that Viviette and I had been somewhat close in the past and she wanted to see me."

"Don't tell us," Athos grimaced. "She needed further tutoring with her scripture passages."

"Non," Aramis shook his head. "That was last month."

"What was _this_ month?" As if Porthos couldn't have guessed.

"Her faith is on shaky ground and Viviette was questioning it."

"I'll tell you what is on _shaky_ ground," Athos' arched a brow. "Tis your budding relationship with Constance."

"I don't wanna see 'er get 'urt," Porthos growled, knowing how most of Aramis' ardent adventures ended.

Holding up both his hands, Aramis simply stared back at them. "When did I get to be the bad guy here?"

"Once you started looking at Constance the way you have," Athos shot back. "Now come," he ordered. "We have duties to perform."

++++

_Early afternoon now - Garrison_

The five younger Musketeers waited for their turn to spar with several senior members of the regiment that currently were gaining the upper hand against several raw recruits. To kill time, they began discussing what Athos had told them Charles wanted for his birthday.

"It's a unique idea for sure." Amusement danced in Eustis' sky blue eyes when he caught Germain and Paul staring at him in a funny manner.

"Bien," Dufort grinned, "tis Charles. We already know how _unique_ the child already is."

"I'll put some of my money into the pot if all of you will." Merle lifted an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side.

With all five men quickly agreeing to throw their funds in, Eustis had another suggestion.

"Isn't there a pile of old clothing gathering dust in the barracks that's slated to be thrown away?" Gazing in question at his brothers, Eustis waited for someone to say otherwise. "Tis still there is it not?"

"Mmmmm, oui." Casting a look at his friends, Merle shared a cunning look with them. "I may be able to persuade a few of our other comrades into sharing with us any other clothing they no longer have need of."

"Sounds like a plan to me." Noting Marcellin signaling to him that it was his turn to spar, Germain gave a nod to his brothers. "If Marcellin knocks me on my ass," he sighed dramatically, "do pick me back up." Laughter reached his ears when he joined the older Musketeer waiting to teach him a lesson.

++++

_Back at Constance's home_

She had worn herself out looking for the petit in every nook and cranny of the house that Charles could hide in. Not worried at first, Constance figured the child was playing hide and seek with her. Now, after fifteen minutes of fruitless searching, she began to grow concerned. Childish laughter reached her ears from the youngsters playing outside. Having warned Charles before about letting her know if he were going out, she had no reason to believe he had left the safety of her house. " _CHARLES!_ This isn't funny anymore!" she shouted, knowing that her voice would carry in most of the rooms. Right after that was when she heard what sounded like a fight directly outside her front door.

Quickly opening it her mouth fell open in shock. For there was Charles fighting with several children bigger than he was. "What are you doing?" Pulling two older garcons off Charles, Constance couldn't help but note that her petit's pants were now torn and dirty. Noting the rest of the tyke hadn't fared any better, she clucked her tongue. Helping to pick the child up, she dusted him off and gently swatted his rear. Turning him around to face her, Constance gently shook the lad by the shoulders. "First you don't tell me you're coming out here, scaring me half to death, and then I discover you in a fight." Wiping a smudge of dirt from Charle's cheek, she tisked. "If I didn't know any better I'd say the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

Glaring over the poppet's head, at the other two offenders, Constance stood there with hands on her hips. "What do you two have to say for yourselves? Beating on someone younger than you?" Watching them running away, she snorted. "Can't say I'm surprised by that reaction."

"You're scary when you get mad, Constance," Charle's whispered. Knowing he wasn't supposed to leave the house without asking permission, he waited for her wrath to fall on his head.

Crossing her arms she stared down at him. "What caused the fight?" Usually Charles was honest as the day was long. In this instance, Constance hoped he'd run true to form.

"They said bad things about my papas."

"What did they say exactly?" Right after Constance asked the question, she almost wished she could take it back. Judging from the look on Charle's face, it wasn't anything good.

"Do I have to tell you?" Kicking dirt on the ground, Charles refused to look up at her.

"Considering I now have to clean and mend your clothes," Constance huffed, rolling her eyes, "oui you do."

"They said papa Thos drank like a fish." Speaking softly so no one else could hear his words, Charles hated having to repeat what those bullies enjoyed telling him. "Said papa Porth was nothing but a crook and that papa Mis chased after married ladies."

Tapping her chin with a finger, Constance sighed. What to say to the petit? Unfortunately nearly everything Charles had repeated was true. Athos enjoyed his wine. Porthos loved to cheat at cards when he could get away with it. Aramis, ah, Aramis. How he did love the women. Married or not.

Kneeling down beside the child, Constance tweaked his nose. "What they've done in the past is in the past, petit. They've changed since you came into their lives," she kissed his cheek. "And for the better." Taking his hand, Constance lead Charles back inside. "Now to clean you up and mend your clothes before your papas come for you."


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I don’t feel this story is ever going to end. LOL!  
> This chapter seems to have taken on a more serious tone and we still haven’t gotten to Charles visiting the Court of Miracles yet.  
> It's coming. Promise.
> 
> ++++

_Later the same day, before dinnertime – Constance’s house_

When the inseparables came back to pick up Charles they found their son playing with his toys again, unusually quiet. What was more than puzzling to them was the change in the lad’s demeanor. Nothing they did could get the tyke to interact with them.

“Constance,” Athos gently took the young woman by the hand, “is Charles coming down with something?”

Shaking her head, she pulled him off to the side. “Unfortunately he found out some home truths about you lot and ended up in a fight with a couple of young bullies.”

“What they say?” growled Porthos, who had overheard her words.

Eyes sliding toward the giant Musketeer, Constance then poked Porthos in the chest with her finger. “For one thing, aside from gambling way too much… _you cheat_!” Waving her hand in his face, Constance gave him a disgusted look. “Don’t try and talk your way out of it because we all know tis the truth,” she hissed, with a look around Porthos’ huge form to make sure the petit couldn’t hear them.

“What of me?” Worried, because Athos could guess very well what those children had told his son, he waited to hear what Constance would divulge.

Facing him, Constance gazed deeply into Athos’ sorrowful blue eyes. “Your drinking.” Seeing the man wince, she placed her hand on his arm. “We all have our demons but sometimes I feel you’d be better off sharing yours.”

“Some demons are best kept locked in a chest, buried deep somewhere. Never to be resurrected again,” Athos murmured.

Almost afraid to look her in the eye, Aramis stepped forward. “And me?”

Folding her arms, Constance gave him a stern look. “What do you think?”

Grimacing, Aramis quickly looked over his shoulder at his son. One hand on his hip the other gripping his sword until his knuckles whitened, he hung his head in shame when Charles wouldn’t look at any of them. Slowly Aramis turned back to the others only to encounter a hurt look in Constance’s eyes. “What did you tell him?”

“The truth of course” she blurted out. “What did you expect me to do… _lie_?” All the men then stared down at the floor. “You won’t find any answers there I can assure you three of that,” Constance huffed. “After Charles told me what those two bullies said to him I explained that what all of you had done prior was in the past.” Her smile was directed toward Athos and Porthos, though Constance refrained from boxing Aramis’ ears. “And that you’ve all changed since he had entered your lives,” her lips pursed. Staring hard at Aramis she added, “Bien… two of you have at least.”

It hadn’t gone unnoticed by Porthos, nor Athos, that Constance was more than perturbed with Aramis. Smart men that they were, they wisely kept their own counsel over the marksman’s fickleness where the fairer sex was concerned. There was no sense in muddying waters that were already murky.

“Gentlemen,” giving them all pitying glances this time, Constance wasn’t pleased with her next words, “Charles realizes his heroes have feet of clay. I believe that pedestal he’s put you all on top of has a huge crack running down it now."

“Kid’s birthday's comin’ up and he goes and hears that sorta crap about us.” More than angry, Porthos wished he could have found those two youngsters who upset his kid. They’d think twice about doin’ it ta some other child.

“Let’s face it,” Athos said. “Where there is smoke there is fire and between the three of us we could have set the Garrison ablaze.” Feeling a soft pat to his arm, he found Constance’s soft gaze resting on him.

“For now concentrate on that _petit blaze_ those careless words have started.” Walking away Constance went over to where Charles was sitting and helped him put away the toys.

“Mon Coeur,” Aramis held out his hand, “bid Constance farewell. We are for home."

Hugging Constance, Charles buried his face in her comforting arms. “Au revoir.”

Releasing him, Constance tapped the tip of the poppet’s nose. “Try to stay out of fights."

"Okay." Casting sad eyes at his papas, Charles then peeked at Constance from underneath his bangs. "But they get into fights all the time. Tell them too," he tacked on, barely acknowledging the three men in the room.

"They don't listen to me like you do, Charles." Her smile faltered slightly upon noting the deep scowl the petit now sported which was directed at the inseparables.

They would have had to be truly stupid to not see how Charles was behaving toward them. Indeed they have fallen very low in their son's estimation.

"I wish I was drunk," Porthos muttered under his breath. Getting a sharp poke in his side, he glared at Athos.

"Usually that's my line," Athos drawled.

"Where's a young widow when you need one." Trying to avoid the disappointment in the garcon's eyes, Aramis brushed past everyone to walk out the door.

"Dinner's gonna be right interestin'... again." Donning his chapeau, Porthos dipped his head at Constance and then made his way over to the whelp.

"By any chance did you recognize the other children involved in this altercation?" If he could, Athos wanted to pay the parents of those two bullies a visit.

"Don't worry about them, Athos. I know where they live," she smiled. "And their parents will be getting an earful from me. Count on it."

Grinning, Athos dipped his head. "Then I shall gladly leave that part in your capable hands, mademoiselle." Bending over her hand he placed a kiss upon it. Then he, Charles and Porthos took their leave.

++++

_The Inseparable's home*  
_

Wanting to give their son some independence, the inseparables had given Charles permission to ride Zad into the Garrison, where they also had stabled the poney. Now the short ride back to their home, instead of being filled with childish chatter, had been done mostly in silence. Once they arrived at their house, they all took care of their mounts before going inside.

The first words out of Charle's mouth took Athos aback at first, which left him floundering for the correct answer to provide.

"Is it true you drink a lot?" He couldn't forget what he had been told, and Charles needed to know the truth.

"Mon ange," Athos sighed, "I drink to forget a painful part of my past that I do not share with anyone."

"Including me?" Curious as to what that could be, Charles turned doe-like eyes upon papa Thos.

"Ah," Athos chuckled, "I will not fall for that _look_ , child."

Pouting because he didn't get his answer Charles said, "Constance told me that all of you have changed since I came to live here."

"Absolutely correct, petit." Ruffling the lad's hair, Athos went to remove his weapon's belt and then his doublet. "You are the best thing to have happened to all of us."

Feeling better upon hearing that Charles had a question for papa Porth. "They said you cheat," he bit his lip. "Do you?"

"I grew up in the Court, kid." Porthos went to pour himself a glass of wine. "Ya did anythin' and everythin' ta stay alive there. Ya should remember all the stuff I already told ya about it." Finishing his drink he could see his answer hadn't satisfied the whelp. "I'll 'ave you know I lost a lot of money a few nights ago because of ya." When his son's eyes widened, Porthos laughed. "I'm tryin' real hard lately when I get inta a good card game not ta cheat. My pockets 'ave been a might lighter than I care for of late."

Satisfied with that answer Charles went up to papa Mis last. "Do you really go after married ladies?"

"Mon Dieu!" Aramis cried. "What a question to ask?" Silently he damned those two garcons who spoke ill of them to the tyke. Putting doubts in his son's head, hurting Charles in the process, Aramis could have cheerfully tanned their rears.

"Have you, papa?" Not going to let this go Charles stared up into papa Mis' worried, dark eyes.

"Mon coeur, there are reasons for what I do," Aramis tried to explain. "There's a saying... _safety in numbers,_ which I try to adhere too. This way I do not claim any one woman's heart." He felt this conversation was way over the child's head but could tell Charles was still unsatisfied with Aramis' answers. "Tis a less complicated situation all the way around that way." He had answered his son's question without really admitting that he dallied with married women. This was a most unfit conversation to be having with a three year old. Even if at times Charles seemed much older than his years.

"I thought you liked Constance." Having seen them together on many occasions, Charles figured that meant they really cared for each other. He had secretly hoped that it meant he'd have a maman to take care of him soon. His own had gone to heaven when he was barely two years of age and Charles missed her presence in his life.

Ah! There was the elephant in the room. How to answer that question without sounding like a cad, which unfortunately at times he wore that mantle like a glove. The one thing in his favor was that he had parted with his past paramours with no hard feelings between them. Those eyes of Charles had yet to stray and were still locked onto his own. His son liked Constance very much and nothing he could say to the youngster was going to show Aramis in a good light. Still he tried.

Kneeling in front of the lad he pulled Charles close. “I am yet young. Women have always been a distraction for me,” he chuckled. “Sometimes I fear they always will. Tis not fair for Constance if my attentions toward her would ever to stray towards another. She is a lovely, good, young woman and deserves so much more than me.”

Feeling that he should step in before Aramis makes a hash of things, Athos knelt on the other side of the garcon. “In other words,” his eyes flicked toward the marksman, “Aramis doesn’t want Constance to be hurt.”

He may be going to turn only four years old soon but that didn’t mean Charles walked around with his eyes closed to the world. “She’ll be hurt anyway, papa Mis.” Placing a hand on his papa’s cheek, Charles leaned in closely. “You showed her you liked her. I know you took her to places because Constance would tell me all about them.”

“Get out of this one if ya can,” Porthos whispered into his brother’s burning ear.

Throwing a foul look in Porthos’ direction, Aramis was astounded at the petit’s perception of things. Clearly Charles was sharp as a tack and not going to be swayed by any pretty words he may say to dress his own faults up with. “Constance and I are friends and will always remain that way, mon coeur.” Standing up he frowned noting tears pooling in Charle’s eyes. “Tis better for both of us.”

Swiping at his stinging eyes, Charlies sniffed. “Thought she’d be my maman.”

“Oy!” Slapping at his forehead, Porthos was certainly floored by the whelp’s words hitting them all out of the blue that way.

“Mon Dieu!” Shocked to the core, this was the last thing Athos expected to come out of Charle's mouth. Not feeling all that brotherly toward Aramis at the moment, he glared at his brother's white face. 

If the floor had opened up to swallow him, Aramis couldn’t have been more surprised. “ _Maman_ ,” he gulped, throwing helpless looks at his friends. Neither of whom appeared particularly pleased with him.

“You’re on your own, boyo.” Shaking his fist at Aramis, Porthos stood off to the side waiting to clean up after the marksman's mess.

“Athos.” Turning beseeching eyes toward the eldest, Aramis could tell there would be no help from that quarter either.

“Handle it,” Athos bit out, "without hurting him."

“Charles, people can go out with each other and still just be friends.” Happy at least that his son’s sniffles had ceased, Aramis prayed he was making some sense to the child. Never in his wildest dreams would he have pictured having to explain something like this to someone of Charle’s young years. “It doesn’t mean they’ll fall in love or want to be married to one another.” Holding his arms out, Aramis waited for his son to come to him. "At least not right away, mon coeur."

Wrapping his smaller arms around papa Mis, Charles rubbed his face against the warm leather doublet. “You and Constance are only friends then.” Shoulders heaving, Charles let out a great sigh. “I understand."

Shoulders sagging in relief Aramis dropped to his knees, peppering his son's wet face with kisses. Only stopping at Charle's announcement.

"She's mad at you though." Wondering what was behind the strange look his papa wore, Charles thought maybe he should have kept that to himself.

Standing back up, with a rueful look gracing his features, Aramis was simply out of words. He had an awful feeling Constance had heard about Viviette. Having forgotten the one cardinal rule that women loved to gossip, Aramis should have been honest with Constance about his own feelings.

"Fences to mend, mon ami." Stern look on his face, with a brow quirked, Athos stood still as a statue in front of Aramis.

"Perhaps at our petit's birthday gathering here in a few days" Oui, he definitely had fences to mend. His relationship with Constance had never even gotten past a few chaste kisses to her hand or forehead. So Aramis prayed that once he explained himself she'd be forgiving enough so they could, at least, go back to their old friendship they used to enjoy.

"Whelp, let's raid the kitchin'." Grabbing the runt up Porthos placed Charles on top of his broad shoulders, with the kid's giggles filling up the room.


	42. Chapter 42

_Two days later, after the family drama_

_Royal Palace_

His thumb running over his goatee, Richelieu’s sharp gaze roamed over the assembly of Musketeers and Red Guards that were to accompany young Charles on his venture to the Court of Miracles. All the provisions the petit had wanted were in two wagons, along with a nice-sized pouch carrying a tidy sum of livres. It seemed that whatever Charles wanted Charles got. For many a Musketeer, and even his own Red Guards for that matter, had pitched in their own funds for the cause.

Looking at King Louis sideways, Richelieu thought there was just the smallest amount of nerves beginning to show. “Do you not consider eight Musketeers and eight Red Guards sufficient to make sure Charles is safe?”

Not realizing at first that the cardinal was speaking to him, King Louis paid him no mind. That was until he caught an annoyed scowl crossing the older man’s face. “So sorry, Cardinal,” he gave a light laugh. “My thoughts were elsewhere. What did you say again?”

“The guards, Sire,” Richelieu pointed out. “You seemed apprehensive and I thought perhaps you were dwelling upon the number of men who are to escort Charles.”

“Oh no,” King Louis waved the cardinal’s words aside. “Actually I was worried that Miss Flea may decide to keep Charles with her.” Noting Richelieu’s surprise, he laughed. “I know. Just a bit of fancy that struck me.”

"Mmmmm," Richelieu hummed. "Not quite out of the realm of impossibility as you may think, Sire." When the young king gazed back at him with a slightly confused expression Richelieu said,"We know how captivating the petit can be."

"True... true," King Louis agreed. "But she can't have him. Charles belongs here... with us."

"My concern is that knowing how much trouble Charles gets into around here that if he were to get loose in the Court heaven alone knows what mayhem could befall him." Rubbing at his brow Richelieu missed the twinkling eyes of the king.

"Athos, Porthos and Aramis, I'm quite sure, are going to be ever vigilant with the child." Queen Anne offered both men. At least she hoped the inseparables would be able to keep the garcon from mischief. Though Queen Anne didn't dare voice that to her husband or His Eminence. "I believe there are children that live in the Court of Miracles that are Charle's own age."

"And older than their years, Your Majesty," Richelieu added. "They'd pick your pockets so fast you wouldn't even know it had happened." Looking at the queen, he ruefully shook his head. "I shudder to think what nasty habits Charles could pick up if in the company of those street rats for too long."

"Come, come, Cardinal," King Louis admonished. "Be a bit more respectful than calling those children _street rats_."

Wanting to argue the point with the king, Richelieu decided against it. In some ways Louis was still a child himself. Showing the young monarch the seedier side of Paris could open his eyes more than they were. Of course Louis knew of the Court and the citizens that lived there. After all they made use of the young runners from there. But Louis never actually dealt with them and therefore never saw the rags the children wore. At one juncture Richelieu tried to talk the king into rousting out everyone that lived there so that they could tear the Court of Miracles apart but Louis was against it at the time. No sense dwelling on the matter and giving himself a migraine in the process when there were more important matters of the monarchy to deal with. Anyway it appeared the soldiers were about ready to depart when Richelieu observed Louis walking toward them.

In front of the line of his mounted Musketeers and the cardinal's Red Guards, King Louis' eyes roamed the group until they settled on where Charles was located. "What happened to Zad?" He was mildly surprised to note that the child was seated in front of Athos on the same horse.

"Your Majesty," Athos kept a firm grip on his son who kept squirming in the saddle they shared, "I've already discovered premature grey hairs," he drolly announced. Listening to snickers from his two brothers, Athos felt like boxing their ears. "If I do not want to suffer complete hair loss keeping Charles where I can see and touch him appears to be the wisest course to follow."

Amusement danced in King Louis' eyes, while Cardinal Richelieu's lips twitched in response to Athos' words. Knowing the lieutenant had the right of it, King Louis nodded his approval as did the cardinal.

"Sound decision, Athos." Addressing Charles, King Louis smiled pleasantly. "Promise me that you will obey your papas while at the Court?" When the petit rolled his eyes at him, he chuckled.

"I promise." Sighing, Charles wondered what would happen if he did disobey his papas.

"Oh, Charles," Queen Anne reached out to hand the child a brightly wrapped package. "This is for Miss Flea."

Taking the package from her, Charles shook it. Not hearing anything rattling he asked, "What is it?"

"A handmade shawl. From one _queen_ to another." Noting the happy face Charles turned her way, Queen Anne was delighted she could give this personal gift to the young woman who was in charge of the Court.

"She'll be pleased for your present, Your Majesty," Porthos said, remembering days gone past when he used to freeze his ass off at the Court.

"Can we go now?" Whipping his head from left to right, Charles was pleased to see all the familiar faces coming with them. Germain, Dufort and Paul were here, while Eustis and Merle were in charge of the wagons. Not knowing any of the Red Guards Charles still smiled happily at them, getting answer ones in return.

"I wonder if I should attend as well." Joining everyone to watch the procession set out Doctor Devereaux's words unexpectedly slipped out, surprising even himself.

"May I ask why you would think your services would be needed?" Tapping a finger to his chin, Richelieu thoughtfully studied the physician. Perhaps that wouldn't be a bad idea after all.

"One never knows when an accident may occur." Hoping his answer was sufficient, Devereaux noted the king staring at him strangely. "Sire, is something amiss?"

"I was wondering where Doctor Perrot had gone off too as I haven't seen the man about lately."

"He had a family emergency and has been away, Your Majesty," Devereaux explained. "Having known one another, as I have a practice within the city, I offered my services at the Garrison until his return."

"Sire, if I may?" Taking over, Treville elaborated further. "I thought such a trivial matter need not be brought to your attention since we had a physician ready to step into Doctor Perrot's shoes."

"Understandable, my old fox." His attention diverted once more to his men surrounding Charles, King Louis held up his hand. "I know you will not be going far, men, but take care. You are protecting the most precious of cargoes," he gayly laughed. "I want all of you to keep one eye on my subjects and one on Charles at all times."

"Don't worry, Your Majesty," Porthos grinned. "Flea knows we're comin' and what we're bringin'. I doubt anyone would go against 'er orders or try ta harm the kid."

"Porthos is correct in his assessment." Finding himself in agreement with the large Musketeer, Richelieu glanced sideways at the king. "It would be only hurting themselves if they were to bite the hand that feeds them."

"Can we go _now_?"

From the Musketeers down to the Red Guards, laughter filled the air at the child's whining question.

Leaning back against papa Thos, Charles craned his neck and glanced up into sparkling blue eyes. "Do you know what's so funny?"

Bending over his son Athos spoke softly, keeping a straight face. "I have no idea, mon ange." Holding up his hand now, Athos gained his men's attention. "Look sharp! We will obviously be the subject of much speculation as we proceed through the city. But do not let anything deter you from your primary duty to keep Charles and our provisions safe." Knowing that he basically repeated the king's words to his men, Athos needed it drummed into their heads anyway.

Tipping his chapeau at the young monarchs, the cardinal and his captain, Aramis joined Porthos as they both rode abreast of Athos. "Tis a lovely day to visit the Court of Miracles, eh, Porthos?"

"Any excuse ta visit with Flea makes it a lovely day, Mis." Seeing Charle's had heard him, Porthos winked at the runt. "She's gonna eat ya up, whelp."

"I can't wait to meet her, papa Porth."

"I for one would have rather waited until he was older." The sarcastic note in Athos' voice apparently sailed over everyone's heads, since no one paid any heed to his words. With a click of his tongue to Roger and a pull of the reins, Athos led the men from the palace grounds.

Many a Parisian cast suspicious looks at the Musketeers and Red Guards taking up most of the streets with their horses. If they wondered what a petit garcon was doing amidst the soldiers, the citizens could be forgiven their gawking eyes.

"Are we getting closer?" Anxious to arrive now, Charles placed his hands on top of his papas that were holding Roger's reins. "Go faster."

"Would you want me to cause an accident? Because that would be easy with all these people milling about."

"Non," Charles shook his head. "I'm sorry." Feeling a kiss on top of his head, he leaned back against his papa again.

"Almost there, mon coeur." Eyes darting all over the place, Aramis was constantly on guard for any possibility. Even though his son was with them, he was actually somewhat bored that so far the trip had been uneventful. Good thing Athos couldn't read his mind right now. But Aramis craved adventure like Athos used to crave wine before Charles came into their lives. He thought nothing wrong in wanting to be the hero of the hour and be able to kiss a pretty damsel in distress. Ah, bien, perhaps on their next mission out Aramis would get lucky.

++++

_Court of Miracles_

"Hold!" That simple order from Athos brought everyone to a standstill. Turning in his saddle his gaze locked with Porthos'. "Take it from here, mon frere."

Riding ahead, Porthos went to greet Flea. The young woman stood waiting for him at the entrance to the Court. Dismounting, there was a bit of a swagger to Porthos' walk when he approached her. "Told ya I'd be seein' ya soon." Picking her up, as if she weighed next to nothing, he swung her around in a circle.

"Papa Porth does that with me too," Charles giggled sweetly, feeling papa Thos hugging him close.

"Porthos!" Flea laughed. "Put me down, you great ox!"

"Don't wanna." But he did eventually release her as she slid out of his arms.

Straightening her dress, Flea stepped around his large bulk to face the soldiers gathered in front of her. "Now which one of you is Charles?"


	43. Chapter 43

_Same day and time – Court of Miracles_

Surprised that Flea didn’t know that _he_ was Charles, because papa Porth said she knew all about him, he piped up shouting, “ _ME!_ I’m Charles!” Feeling papa Thos suddenly start shaking behind him worried Charles that his papa was sick.

Covering his mouth, so as not to laugh, Aramis could see Athos trying not to let his amusement show. His brother’s shoulders were shaking so much that Aramis thought Athos might fall off Roger. It was sweet really watching his son tell Flea that he was the one she sought. It didn’t dawn on his garcon that everyone else present was fully grown and that Flea was teasing when she had asked her question.

Looking up into the petit’s cherub features, Flea smiled brightly into Charle’s chocolate-colored eyes. “Get yourself down from there so I can thank ya for what you’re doin’ for us.”

Papa Thos whispered in Charle’s ear just then to wait. Anxious to get his feet back on the ground he felt papa get out of the saddle to slide off it. It was a long way down now that he paid attention. Roger was much higher off the ground than Zad would have been. When papa Thos reached out for him Charles wrapped his arms around papa’s neck.

Swinging his son off Roger’s back, Athos placed the garcon near where Flea stood waiting.

Squatting down in front of the child, Flea held out her hand. “Merci beaucoup, Charles, for thinkin’ of us.” Still gripping the youngster’s hand, Flea glanced up into the proud look Porthos wore. Her focus back on the petit she said, “I have it on good authority what a thoughtful garcon you are.” Observing Charles turn all shy on her, Flea gave him a quick peck to his cheek. Standing back up she straightened her dress. “My, I’ve never seen so many guards all in one place before,” Flea laughed. “Usually the likes of us are bein’ chased all over Paris by the likes of 'em.”

“Not today, Mademoiselle.” Tipping his chapeau at the attractive young woman while smiling charmingly at her, Aramis heard a low growl from behind him. Knowing it was Porthos radiating jealousy, he couldn’t resist pushing it a bit further. “You should go out and about the streets of Paris more often.” Taking her hand into his own he placed a gentle kiss upon it. “Shouldn’t deprive the gentlemen of our fair city of your beauty.”

“Mis!” Hissing in his brother’s ear, Porthos was ready to strangle him. “If’n ya don’t shut your trap right now I just may do it for ya.”

Turning laughing brown eyes over his shoulder at his good friend, Aramis threw a jaunty wink at Porthos’ jealous face. “Green isn’t exactly your best color, mon ami.”

Clapping Porthos’ right shoulder with a gloved hand, Athos stared at both men. “Aramis,” he drawled in a tone bordering on bored, “can we not dispense with your frivolities for even a day?”

“You wound me, mon frere.” Acknowledging Athos words with a dip of his head, Aramis could tell that Porthos was still upset with him. Cocking his head to the side his lips twitched upward. “Tis so very easy to rile you.” Receiving only grunts in response to his words, Aramis turned an amused smirk Athos’ way.

Not reading the undercurrents thick in the air, Charles wasn’t paying attention to his family. Instead he remembered something he had left in Roger’s saddlebags. Actually there were two _somethings_ but this one was of more importance right now. “Papa Thos… the _package_!”

“Ah!” Smiling into the petit’s anxious face, Athos went to retrieve Her Majesty’s present. Settling it into Charle’s hands, he took note of Flea’s curious gaze resting upon the colorful wrappings.

"This is a special present for you from Queen Anne." Waiting for Flea to unwrap the gift, Charles was rewarded by her happy squeals of delight. "I've never 'ad anythin' like this before!" Holding the lovely material close to her chest, Flea's one hand glided over its soft texture.

"Yer supposed ta put it around yer shoulders, Flea." Taking it from her, Porthos placed the shawl where it was meant to go. "There," he grinned wickedly, giving her a saucy look. "Right nice on ya too."

"Charles thank the queen for me." Embarrassed at her show of emotion in front of these soldiers, Flea motioned to her people to let the two wagons enter within the Court's boundaries.

"I'll tell her when we get back home." Happy that she liked her present, Charles hoped what they brought would help the people that lived here.

"Our wagons contain food, blankets and medicinal supplies, courtesy of King Louis." Athos told her.  "The clothing we carry comes from my Musketeers." Noting Flea's eyes begin to fill with tears, Athos momentarily looked away.

"All of this," her lips trembled, "was your idea, Charles?"

"Oui." With his head bobbing up and down, Charles held out his hand to papa Mis. "This too." Handing her the pouch filled with livres, he watched Flea's face as tears poured down it. "It's what I wanted to do for my birthday."

The pouch weighed heavily in her hands. Clutching it tightly, Flea did her best to retain her composure. Taking Porthos' hand she whispered in his ear. "Are ya sure 'e's only goin' ta be four soon?" When he threw his head back and a great bark of laughter escaped him, she blushed realizing how silly her question was.

Germain couldn't resist telling her who else chipped in. "Pretty much most of the regiment, including our captain, pitched in the coins."

"Red Guards as well." Eustis indicated the other soldiers, draped in their red cloaks, vying for position with the Musketeers in guarding Charles.

She was shocked to hear that even the cardinal's Red Guards had shared their meager wealth with them. "What magic does Charles weave that even they do the petit's bidding?" Not having addressed anyone in particular, Flea was in awe of the young Gascon lad. With one birthday wish the garcon had hardened soldiers eating out of his hand.

"Kid kinda 'as a way with 'im," Porthos chuckled. "Ya should see 'im with Their Majestys and Cardinal Richelieu." He tried to ruffle his son's hair but Charles kept batting his hand away.

Feeling something soft brushing against her ankles Flea glanced down, catching sight of marmalade fur disappearing between her legs to hide under her long skirt.

"Alex!" Charles cried out. But his shout was drowned out by the bellowing voices of his papas.

"What the deuce is she doing here!" Seething, Athos glared at the garcon. There were too many places to lose the petite fluffball here. Confound it!

"'Ell if I know!" Eying the tiny creature as Alex continued to hide under Flea's dress, Porthos prayed the kitten wouldn't get into any mischief. But that was like wishing for the moon.

"Bad enough keeping Charles safe," Aramis muttered. "Though now our littlest troublemaker has joined the party I must admit that Alex has good taste in hiding spots."

"Aramis!"

Noting Porthos' glower Aramis suppressed his amusement, taking pity on his large brother.

His papas weren't happy about Alex being here. Not wanting to lie, Charles admitted what he had done. "She hasn't had an adventure away from home." Knowing everyone was listening to him he continued. "So I hid her in one of Roger's saddlebags."

Pinching the bridge of his nose Athos knew it was remiss of him to not have noticed Alex was a stowaway. Hearing all his men not bother to stifle their mirth Athos glared at them from over his shoulder, effectively silencing their amusement. There! That was much better.

"I think she's absolutely adorable!" Lifting her skirt up, expecting to see a pair of black eyes looking up at her, Flea was disappointed to find that Alex had disappeared. Her warm smile fell at this discovery for she was worried since it was Charle's pet. Knowing that there were many vicious dogs roaming the Court, just as vicious as their owners, Flea was concerned that the tiny kitten could come to harm. She would feel genuinely awful if that were to happen.

Trying to see what direction Alex could have darted off in, Flea's back was turned away from the soldiers. Suddenly hearing shouts of mild horror from the inseparables, she whirled around. All the Musketeers and Red Guards present were in an uproar, because apparently Charles had now disappeared as well. Locking eyes with Porthos she silently asked him what happened.

"Alex hightailed it down there." Porthos pointed toward a narrow path lined with broken, old crates and junk lying uselessly in the way. "Then the runt shot off afta 'er."

"Nom de dieu!" Swearing violently, Athos didn't care who heard him lose his control. This is exactly what he had feared happening. Sixteen guards and still Charles managed to pull a vanishing act. Now they were all going to have to chase down his son. Hoping that none of the men crossed swords with the men and women who lived here, Athos began barking out orders.

"Locating Charles is our first priority!" Athos yelled. "Do not engage anyone here if you can help it!" His razor sharp gaze hadn't missed the shame filled faces of Musketeers and Red Guard alike. Knowing they were embarrassed at letting Charles get away from them, Athos had no doubt that all of them would do their level best to find his son. Striding past Flea with only one thing on his mind now, Athos took point.

"Silly of me to think this would have gone smoothly." Rolling his eyes, Aramis ran to catch up with Athos.

"Kid 'ill be easier ta spot than Alex." An awful feeling clawed in his gut but Porthos gave Flea a look of reassurance anyway.

"Why do I have the impression that Charles and trouble are fast friends?" Taking Porthos' large hand they too raced to follow the others.

++++

_Somewhere in the Court_

"Alex! Alex!" Knowing he was going to be in big trouble with everyone for leaving without permission, Charles wanted to find his kitten fast before something terrible happened to her. Searching all over, and asking people he encountered if they had seen Alex, Charles received strange reactions from some and wary looks from others. Too worried about his pet, he didn't consider his own safety.

Feeling like he had been running for ages, weaving in and out of the mass of bodies which seemed to be everywhere, Charles was relieved when the path he was on finally opened up. Surprisingly he then found himself staring at a ship that was being loaded with supplies.

It wasn't long after that when Charles spotted Alex. She was poking her tiny nose in everything that crossed her path. Then she decided to follow a group of men that were walking up a plank leading to the ship. There was no way Charles was going to lose her now. Running past several rough looking men he ducked past some more that were carrying large sacks onto the ship.

On the plank himself now, Charles had surprised the men with his sudden appearance. Startling one of the workers into accidentally dropping the sack he was carrying resulted in Charles trying to dodge out of the way. Losing his footing he couldn't stop his momentum. Arms flailing madly, Charles felt his body falling backwards in the air.

++++

_Meanwhile..._

Pressing anyone they saw for answers to their questions the inseparables were ready to tear their hair out. Either the people here honestly didn't see Charles or they were afraid to tell them anything, until a couple of street urchins approached them.

"Yeah, we saw 'im." Eyes wide as saucers, this was the first time Etienne ever saw a Musketeer up close without being chased by one for stealing something from someone's stall at the markets.

Noting the spokesman for the young duo wasn't much older than his own son, Athos wasn't sure if he could trust whatever the garcon told him. "Did you see which way Charles went?"

"Sure did. 'E ran down that way." Pointing the path out to the Musketeer, Etienne moved closer to his friend Pierre.

"Where does it lead?" Not making his usual quips, Aramis was all business.

"Leads ta the wharf." Standing tall and menacing above the two kids, Porthos knew he was probably scaring them but right now didn't care.

"That would be the wharf that has Cardinal Richelieu all tied up in knots over, oui?" This time Aramis couldn't resist a slight upward tilt of his lips. Everyone knew how furious His Eminence was over the criminal element within the city slipping in and out with ease, carrying their illegal goods from the docks that were only accessible through the Court's access.

"Yup! Bet Richelieu wishes 'e could be 'ere right now." Seeing Athos was still talking to the two kids, Porthos waited impatiently for his friend to finish.

"It would appear the two youngsters also saw Alex heading in the same direction," Athos' lips pursed. "Hard to miss her coloring." Raising a hand he motioned for Merle, Eustis and Paul, that were with them, to follow. Then all of them made way to the wharf.

 


	44. Chapter 44

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See note at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day and time – Wharf, Court of Miracles_

Airborne, Charles felt the wind at his back while plunging down into the frigid water. The sudden impact was nearly as shocking to him as was the temperature of the water cascading over his head, while his body sank underneath.

++++

Following the directions given them, the inseparables frantically rushed past everyone in their way to get to their son. Deep in their hearts they somehow knew Charles was going to find trouble and needed them to get him out of it.

The wharf that Richelieu sought to shut down was bustling with activity, when the inseparables came upon it. Right then they cared not for the dangerous looks cast their way from many an unsavory character. Their prime objective was to locate the youngster.

“Athos!” Grabbing his friend by the arm, Aramis pointed toward a ship that was currently being loaded. “Somethings going on over there.”

Noting what Aramis indicated, it was then that Athos heard the strained sounds of an animal in distress. That’s when he focused on the bit of fluff known as Alex, standing on the plank. The kitten was mewling its tiny head off. But what had Athos’ heart in his throat was where she was looking… _down into the water_.

His worst nightmare came to life when Athos realized Charles was in difficulties. Without thinking of the consequences he raced over, legs pumping as fast as he could make them, toppling dockworkers to the ground just in time to see his son’s head disappear beneath the murky water.

There was no time to consider removing his clothing or weapon’s belt. Jumping in after his son Athos took a deep breath before submerging below the surface, searching for his precious child.

Shoving more dockworkers out of their way both Aramis and Porthos knelt by the dockside where last they had seen Athos. At first they were confused as to their eldest brother’s actions. They hadn’t yet made the connection between seeing Alex and what that had to do with their friend going into the drink the way he had.

“Ya see ‘im?” What the deuce caused Athos to do such a thing? Must be the weather freezing his brain.

“There!” Pointing to a dark head suddenly making an appearance out of the water, Aramis was ready to go in after Athos.

“Hey! Hey!” Porthos yelled at him, anchoring Aramis to him with a firm grip to the other man’s shoulder. “Ya ain’t gonna join ‘im are ya?” Seeing Aramis throw his chapeau to the ground and removing his weapon’s belt, Porthos thought one crazy friend was enough to deal with. Now there appeared to be two in the fold.

“Of course I am,” Aramis huffed, weapon’s belt dropping carelessly to the dock.

“If’n Athos wanted a cold bath that don’t mean ya ‘av ta follow ‘im.” Thinking both men nuts, Porthos wasn’t sure what to do.

“There had to be a valid reason.” Shaking off his brother’s hold, Aramis took stock of the person who was clinging to Athos like a petit limpet. “Mon Dieu! Charles!” Then, without wasting more time upon noting that beloved young face, Aramis jumped into the water.

Seeing now why Athos reacted the way he had, Porthos wished he had learned how to swim. He never had liked water much. Only ever feeling the need to wade up to his knees in it whenever they stopped by a stream in the warmer months. All he could do now was pray that Charles would be okay. Knowing the water was extremely cold, Porthos grew more concerned than ever.

As the men swam closer to the dock, aside from Porthos there were quite a few hands ready to help the Musketeers get back on dry land with their burden. Once Athos and Aramis handed a wet, bedraggled Charles over into Porthos’ capable hands, they were helped back onto the dock by several heavily muscled dockworkers. Now out of the water they began to shiver. Someone threw cloaks over their shoulders, while the crowd around them disperced as if this was just another ordinary day on the wharf for them.

“How is the petit?” Standing near Porthos, Flea watched him bundling Charles up with several warm cloaks some of the other Musketeers had generously offered. Anxiously she looked on.

“Charles… Charles wasn’t in… the the water… for very... very long,” Athos stuttered out. Going over to the lad he ran cold hands over the garcon’s thin frame, while Charles was still coughing from the water he had swallowed.

“Athos.” Eyes resting on both Charles and his brother, Aramis looked at Athos with a most curious expression. Even though his own body was wracked by violent shivers he had to ask, “How did you know?”

Pointing to the orange-colored fur now seeking protection from a scolding that the kitten knew was coming her way, Athos heard Alex begin to mewl softly butting its head against Charles. “She was making _that_ sound while gazing into the water.”

Sitting back on his haunches, Aramis swore. “Merde!” Thinking about how easily they could have lost the garcon, never to be found in the depths of the sea.

Squashed between his papas Charles looked up into the unhappy face of papa Porth. ‘I didn’t mean to fall in.”

“Lad’s right.” Andre walked over to the Musketeers. “Saw ‘im goin’ in afta that petite chat. One of my men was surprised by the kid’s bein’ there in the first place. ‘E dropped the sack ‘e was carryin’ and the garcon lost ‘is balance and fell off the plank.” Having explained what happened, Andre went back to seeing that the ship was loaded up.

That was enough talk as far as Flea was concerned. She worried that Aramis, Athos and Charles would get sick if not warmed soon. “Come with me,” she urged. So with Porthos carrying a soggy Charles and followed by two even soggier soldiers, she led them to her home.

++++

Having removed their wet clothes Charles and his papas had been given towels to dry off, along with mismatched articles of clothing to put on until their own outfits had dried.

“This wasn’t what I had in mind for the kind of impression Charles was to make.” With a sardonic twist of his lips, Athos shook his head in despair.

“I’m sorry, papa.” Laying his still wet head against papa Thos’ shoulder, Charles looked over to where Flea was. She was burning hot coals in the metal brazier, making it nice and toasty inside her home.

“We’ll leave the blame where it lies,” Aramis announced, as all eyes landed on the one that originally caused the mayhem… Alex, who was currently curled up near the brazier.

“Just you wait until we get home.” Scowling fiercely at his pet Charles heard Alex purring in contentment.

“She’s paying no attention to any of us.” Chuckling, Aramis wished he could be like that petite feline and curl up to the warmth of the brazier as well. "Alex is quite happy where she is."

"Afta causin' all this trouble," Porthos snorted loudly, "now Alex chooses to snooze." With a slight shake of his head he looked at his son. "Kid, next time leave 'er at home."

"I shouldn't have gone after Alex either," Charlies admitted. "But I was afraid for her."

Sitting on a huge pillow beside the glowing brazier, Flea rubbed behind the kitten's ear, listening to Alex continue to purr softly. "She's ta cute ta stay mad at for long though."

"Say that ta those three drowned rats." Gesturing towards his son and friends, that were still drying out, Porthos' frown turned into a grim smile.

"Very funny." Which of course Aramis felt quite the opposite about.

"Despite all this drama," Flea stroked Alex's back, "the rest of your men, Athos, have unloaded the wagons you brought along with help from my grateful people."

"Then we will be able to leave shortly." Giving her a nod of thanks for informing him, Athos ran a hand through Charle's hair that still had droplets of water clinging to it.

"I want all of ya ta know that at anytime the Musketeers will have safe passage 'ere." Standing up Flea turned away from where Athos, Aramis and Charles sat. Swiftly rounding on Porthos, she poked him hard in the chest. "And ya already know you're welcome 'ere. So don't be a stranger."

Bending his head Porthos kissed her on the forehead, then on Flea's soft lips. "I've been busy doin' the king's business." Giving her a saucy wink and a quick pat on her rear, he chuckled when she batted at his hand.

"I wished Porthos hadn't done that in front of the garcon," Aramis whispered into Athos' ear.

Puzzled, Charles turned thoughtful eyes upon papa Mis and Thos. "Why did papa do that to Flea?"

Rolling his eyes, Aramis nudged Athos in the ribs. "See what I mean."

Looking over the child's head at Aramis, Athos didn't have the words to answer Charle's innocent question.

So Aramis tried to get around it. "Mmmmm," he licked his lips, "you mean the kiss on her forehead?" At the negative shaking of his son's head, he bit the inside of his cheek. Knowing to what action the lad wouldn't be diverted from, Aramis agreed with Athos' silence on the matter. Still Aramis shrugged helplessly at his older brother, hoping to have Athos help him out.

Glowering at the now sheepish Porthos, Athos said the first thing that popped into his head at the time. "Twas a sign of his affection for her."

"Oh." Digesting the answer he received, Charles grinned. "Then it's okay for me to do that to Constance? Because she's always nice to me and I like her." Wondering why papa Thos and Mis looked funny in the face, Charles put it down to them not feeling well from being in the water with him.

"Charles, it is not polite for you to show your affection to Constance in the manner that Porthos did to Flea." Closing his eyes, Athos began to think that being a father was not the easiest of propositions after all. By the stunned look on Aramis' features he could tell that his friend felt the same.

"But you just said-" When papa Thos held his hand up in that manner, Charles knew to let the matter drop. "I don't understand adults," he muttered under his breath.

Not wanting Charles to feel badly, Athos was going to have a few quiet words with the lad. He ended up leaving the conversation for later, when a young girl walked into the room handing Flea their dried leathers and Charle's outfit.

"'Ere ya are." After giving the men their uniforms, Flea held out Charles clothes to the youngster.

"Merci." Eagerly taking the items, Charles and his papas all went back behind a huge blanket that had been tied up for their privacy while changing.

When finished, the inseparables bowed respectively before Flea. Wanting to give something to Charles before they all left she stepped over to him, kneeling before the petit garcon. Placing a chain about Charle's neck Flea kissed each of the lad's cheeks. Fingering the medallion that was attached to the chain she said, "This will grant ya the freedom and safety of my Court and our 'elp if'n ya ever need it."

Noting that the medallion was made from hammered silver Aramis took particular interest in its craftsmanship, nodding his head in approval as did both his brothers.

Proudly showing off the fleur-de-lis on the medallion to his papas, Charles could see they were all pleased at his gift. "Merci, Flea." Hugging her, he stepped back. "I'll never take it off."

"Nice gesture ta the runt." Grinning at her, Porthos was happy that Flea had done that for the whelp.

"Oui." Smiling at the young woman Athos dipped his head. "My thanks as well."

"You are as kind as you are lovely, Mademoiselle." About to take her hand Aramis was interrupted when a large dark-skinned one grasped him by the arm, dragging Aramis outside. "I was only saying my farewells, mon ami."

"Say 'em ta someone else, Mis." Pushing the marksman toward his horse Porthos went back inside.

Pursing his lips, Aramis went to Belle's side. Noting the curious stares he was garnering from the other men that came with them, Aramis began to whistle while he mounted his horse.

Amused, Eustis shared a look with Dufort. Usually when Aramis began whistling a tune it meant that Porthos was annoyed with the marksman. They were used to it by now.

When Athos emerged from Flea's home with Charles, he cast his eyes upon Aramis. Happy to note that the younger man had not come to blows with their larger brother.

"Er, Athos," trying to keep a straight face, Merle's eyes danced merrily, "everything okay?"

Smirking, Athos placed Charles on top of Roger's back. His blue eyes skimmed over the waiting soldier's faces. "The whole art of life is knowing the right time to say things," he drawled. Glancing sideways at Aramis, who was conversing with Paul, Athos mounted behind his son. "Aramis has yet to learn that particular _art_."

When Porthos said his final goodbyes to Flea, Athos raised his hand signalling all his men to depart. He had to grip Charles tightly as the child kept twisting in the saddle to wave at the young woman. On their way out of the Court nearly everyone they encountered whether be it man, woman or child, smiled and shouted out their appreciation to his son.

With his garcon's head resting against Athos' chest he dropped a quick kiss on top of his son's head. "You did a good thing here, Charles. A very good thing."

"I'm happy, papa Thos."

"And I always hope you will be, petit."

++++

_Later, back at the Royal Palace_

"Charles almost _DROWNED_!" Richelieu roared, making his Red Guards jump nervously and the Musketeers laugh.

"As you can see, Your Eminence," Athos calmly said, "Charles is none the worse for wear from his misadventure."

"You are sure, Charles, that you are fine?" King Louis and Queen Anne both began to worry that the child would become ill from his dunking.

"I'm all right and so is Alex." Beaming brightly at them, Charles let his pet climb on top of his head.

Noting the chatte's petite tail swishing back and forth behind the lad's head, King Louis smiled at his wife. "Quite a twosome, eh?"

"I'm sure his papas would call it something else," she grinned.

"I know what I would call it," Richelieu snapped, still displeased upon hearing that Charles nearly lost his life in the sea.

"Now, now, Cardinal," King Louis chided. "It looks like getting a bit wet hasn't done any harm to the garcon." Hearing Richelieu muttering beside him, King Louis chuckled.

"What a lovely medallion." Reaching out a finger to trace the pattern on it, Queen Anne noted that the design was the fleur-de-lis and she approved. "It suits you, Charles."

"Flea gave it to me. She said it will grant me safe passage in the Court."

"Also the freedom of the place and if'n the kid ever gets inta trouble they'll know ta 'elp 'im."

"Well that was unexpected, Porthos. It would appear that Miss Flea could become an ally when or if we need her help in the future." Placing a hand on top of Charle's head, Richelieu smiled down at the child. "You seem to win friends in the most unexpected of places."

"He'll be the Garrison's secret weapon," King Louis cried out gleefully. "Can't you see it now? When I'm trying to hammer out a treaty with one of our potential allies all I have to do is bring out Charles and he'll melt their hearts." Noting Richelieu pinching the bridge of his nose, King Louis looked at his Musketeers. "Isn't that a splendid idea?" He was a bit put out when everyone, including his wife, wouldn't look him in the eye.

++++

_Note:_

_Quote: "The whole art of life is knowing the right time to say things"_ came from Maeve Binchy (28 May 1939 – 30 July 2012). She was an Irish novelist, playwright, short story writer, columnist, and speaker best known for her sympathetic and often humorous portrayal of small-town life in Ireland.


	45. Chapter 45

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See noes below.
> 
> ++++

_Next day - Charle's birthday at home_

_Slightly after the noonish hour_

"I believe we have everything." Clapping his hands together Aramis then reached out for a freshly baked brioche, only to have his hand lightly slapped for his trouble.

Feigning hurt, Aramis rubbed the spot that had been slapped while pouting at Constance, the latter stood before him with hands on her hips. "May I ask what that was for?"

"You'll spoil your appetite," she snapped.

"I've already had a good breakfast." He pointedly stared at the brioche that was begging to be eaten. "We're skipping lunch so as to eat all these delicacies you have made, ma cherie." Her unamused snort had Aramis raising both eyebrows.

"Mon frere," Porthos growled in his ear, "remember ya told us clearing the air with Constance was gonna be taday?"

"I said that?" Aramis squeaked, voice gone suddenly dry. Noting the unpleasant look Porthos was giving him, he winced. "Oui. I guess I did didn't I?" Hearing another indignant snort this time from his friend, Aramis began counting how many he could accumulate today. Sadly he eyed the untouched plate of sweet buns.

After Constance walked away, Aramis thought perhaps he would help finish arranging the rest of the treats. Even sneaking one or two within his shirt to escape her eagle eyes. But he found that Athos had already beaten him to it. Having outdone herself she must have been baking all night long, judging by the selection on display.

Flattery was second nature to Aramis as he tried to sweeten Constance up. "I believe the palace Chef would be green with envy if he could see what you have whipped up for us." Noting disbelief register in her blue eyes, Aramis' own twinkled merrily. "Perhaps his job could be in jeopardy."

Shaking her head at him, Constance hid a smile. She hardly ever garnered compliments over her cooking or baking from her own family. Hearing it from one of the Musketeers, and Aramis in particular, made her feel warm inside. Even though she knew he was doing it deliberately.

Checking that everything was on the table, her eyes skimmed over the chocolate birthday cake that she had layered with fresh strawberry creme in-between. There were also croissants, crepes, cream-filled eclairs, and of course the brioche she had baked besides.

"We'll have a hard time getting Charles abed tonight." Scratching his beard Athos thought perhaps none of them would be getting any sleep.

"Sugar high," Porthos laughed. "It's ta be expected on a petit's birthday. Guess'n if we miss some sleep here or there the captin' won't jump on our cases over it."

"Constance," Aramis swept her aside, "tis a veritable feast, minus anything of nutritional value of course."

Once again he said the wrong thing as she scowled darkly at him. Knowing he had to talk to her, Aramis guided her into the kitchen. Leaning his hip against the table, he folded his arms to stare at her. "I do not know where to begin with you."

"The _beginning_ always helps or so I am told." Pulling out a chair Constance sat down waiting to hear his words.

At least she didn't snap or scowl at him this time. There may yet be hope they could remain fast friends. "Constance, I admit that at one time I thought of a future with you."

"And then you didn't," she quietly added noting his grimace.

"Then I didn't," Aramis solemnly repeated. "Tis why I didn't pursue you in earnest. But if I have unintentionally raised your hopes," he got down on his knees before her, taking Constance's hands into his own, "you have my most humble apologies. I do not know what else to say."

Looking at their clasped hands, Constance slowly released them. "If I'm just as honest with myself," gently she tucked a stray curl of Aramis' hair behind his ear, "I knew deep down you weren't ready for a serious relationship." Her eyes began to sparkle. "Then I realized neither was I."

Taken aback, Aramis gaped comically at her. "Why then all those black looks and turning away from me whenever I wanted to speak with you?"

"Because you didn't have the nerve to tell me yourself," she fired back. There was a reason Constance's hair was titian.

Blushing beat red, Aramis hung his head down. She was absolutely correct. "Those rumors about me being out and about with other women. You heard then?"

"There were more than just one?" Arching a delicate eyebrow, Constance's amusement shown in her eyes.

Overly embarrassed now, Aramis wished the floor would open up to swallow him whole. "Uh, just two, if memory serves."

"In all the time I've known you your memory never proved faulty." She fondly smiled at him. "You are first and foremost the king's soldier. Usually men of that caliber don't settle down as a rule." Taking his hand she led them from the kitchen. "If at all they don't do so until they're not fit to serve any longer." Kissing him lightly upon his bearded chin, Constance gave him a cheeky grin. "In other words not until you're old, grey and feebleminded. Then what good would you do me, eh?"

Placing his hand over his heart, Aramis winked at her. "I'll try not to get too feebleminded just for you."

"Oh don't do me any favors," she giggled in return.

"So then we're good." Pointing to himself and then back to her, Aramis was still uncertain of her true feelings.

"We're good." Not certain Aramis believed her, Constance thought it was about time they got to other matters. Looking about the diningroom, she tried to find the birthday garcon. "Where is Charles anyway?"

"Coming inside now," Athos said. "He was in the barn feeding Zad with Porthos' help." Relaxing in his favorite chair, legs propped upon a low table, glass of wine in his right hand he grinned. "If I know Porthos he probably let our son feed the rest of our mounts as well."

"Where's our petite troublemaker?" When Aramis looked at her strangely, and then so did Athos, Constance realized she had confused them since they already told her of Charles. "I meant Alex."

"Both are _troublemakers_." Muttering softly, Athos finished his wine.

"Isn't it a bit early for that?" Crossing her arms, Constance stared at the bottle of wine, three quarters full, that was sitting on the table.

"I am merely fortifying myself." Taking the empty glass back to the kitchen, Athos nearly laughed at her face.

"I'm not sure what you're expecting. Tis only us and Charles." Rolling her eyes, thinking it a weak argument on Athos' part, she caught the amused looks shared between the two men. "Oh and Alex if tis what worries you."

"Tis no sea for our pup to fall into this time." Lips tightening, he remembered what nearly had happened to Charle's yesterday. They were lucky none of them had taken ill.

"Despite the dip all but Porthos' took we're none the worse for wear at least." Always looking upon the bright side of things, for the most part, Aramis smirked.

"I never knew how tired of mind and body one could get chasing after a child. Especially one full of so much energy as our Charles." Hankering after another glass of wine, Athos controlled his inner cravings.

"Tis part of fatherhood, Athos." Hooking her arm through his, Constance led him over to the window where they both could see Porthos and Charles coming out of the barn. "Up to now I'd say all of you haven't done badly."

"High praise indeed coming from someone who never married nor had any children to raise." Intending his remark to be teasing, Aramis realized he had put his foot royally in it again upon noting her glowering at him. Mon Dieu! He didn't think anyone could outdo Athos in that particular category but she came deuce close enough for him to do a double take.

Poking him in the chest with a sharp fingernail, Constance kept at it until she had Aramis backed up against a china cupboard. "I helped raise three brothers and one sister!" Her chin jutting out, Constance' glower never lessened. "Tis readied me in how to handle unruly Musketeers."

Exchanging a bewildered look with Athos, he was almost afraid to ask. Deciding to not pose the obvious question that burned on the tip of his tongue, Aramis let it rest.

Throwing her hands up in the air Constance huffed, clarifying for the clueless. "You all act like _children_ at times."

Clearing his throat, Athos interrupted before thing escalated. "I believe Charles is almost at the door." Good, he thought, noting Constance calm herself. He was worried for a moment that she was going to box Aramis' ears, which would have been awkward to explain to Charles if he had walked in on it. Opening the door to let them in, a rush of cold, brisk air followed Porthos and his son inside.

Ushering Charles over to the fireplace to warm themselves, Porthos began removing his own cloak, gloves and chapeau.

Helping Charles out of his own winter outerwear, Constance handed them over to Athos.

"Today you are four years of age, mon ange." After giving the lad a kiss upon the cheek, Athos was nearly choked when Charles hugged him tightly.

Repeating the gesture to everyone else in the room Charles went over to the prepared table. His eyes went wide at what he saw. "Ooooh! I don't know what to start with first."

"'Ow about the cake, eh?" Intending on enjoying everything on the table, Porthos' fingers itched to try the birthday cake first. Then later he was going to drink some of the wine that someone apparently had already started. Eyeing the bottle he knew was full before he left for the barn, Porthos figured Athos had a go at it.

So for the next few hours Charles enjoyed time with his family. Papa Porth told funny stories of past missions, that had not gone according to plan, which had Charles in a fit of giggles.

"Did you have to tell him that one?" Sighing in resignation, Aramis sat back in his chair trying to enjoy his wine.

"Why not?" Porthos countered, wearing a sly grin. "Got the runt laughin' over it."

"Me as well." Smiling into his second glass of wine Athos missed the look of irritation Aramis gave him.

"And what did you find so hysterical about it, missy?" Aramis mockingly growled.

Covering her mouth didn't stifle her giggles. "Picturing you standing by the stream and then getting knocked into it face first, fully clothed, by Belle." By the time Constance got herself back under control, her entire cheeks were suffused with color.

"Only good thing about that day," Aramis drawled, "was that it had turned out to be an extremely humid one so my uniform dried out in no time." Eyes dancing merrily at her, Aramis wondered at the impish look upon her face as she stared back at him. "Do I have cake between my teeth?"

Waving her hand at him, Constance grinned. "Non. Tis just that you can still smile while we tease you over it."

"Ah bien," Aramis lightly shrugged, "if you have only one smile give it to the people you love."

"Tis a lovely sentiment, Aramis." Wiping some chocolate icing from Charle's mouth Constance handed the petit a glass of juice.

"Merci," Charles managed to get out between sips of his drink. "Everything tasted great!"

"I can vouch for that." Winking at the young woman, Porthos bit into another flaky croissant.

"I've another surprise." Gently stroking Alex's back, Constance nodded at Athos. The latter got up, entering Charle's bedroom, to come back out holding several packages which he gave to her.

"Constance," worrying his bottom lip, Charles simply stared at the packages, "I didn't want anything."

"I know, mon coeur, and tis not much but I've been noticing that you've already begun to outgrow some of your clothes." Watching him open her presents, Constance was pleased that Charles seemed to like what she had made.

"I like blue." His hand glided over the soft material of the outfit Constance had made for him. Leaning over Charles brushed his lips over her cheek, hugging her again. "Merci."

"There'll be more later on of course if you continue to grow like I expect." Hugging the poppet back Constance smiled over the garcon's head, taking in the warm looks she received from the men.

"Your many talents are only outshined by your beauty, ma cherie." Picking up her hand Aramis gently kissed it.

"You're a silver-tongued diable, Aramis." Taking her hand back she continued to run her fingers through Alex's fur. Listening to the petite chatte's contented purring, Constance realized she was just as contented. Being part of this mismatched family made her proud.

As it was still early yet, Constance joined the inseparables in a rousing card game. Observing Charles sitting upon Porthos' lap, she wondered what the youngster's thoughts were. Every now and then she noted Porthos whispering in the child's ear and the garcon whisper back to him. Then Porthos would pick a card and show it to Charles. At the lad's nod of approval, Porthos would then make a play. Very curious indeed.

Noting the smile upon her lips while watching his son, Athos couldn't contain his own curiosity. "What is on your mind, Constance? Aside from losing to Porthos that is," he added with a wry grin in the larger man's direction.

"Oh just thinking about the future and Charle's place in it."

Spreading his own hand of cards upon the table, Athos smirked while Porthos glared at him since he won this round. "The best thing about the future is that it comes one day at a time, Constance. Which is more than enough for me as it is."

"Amen, mon frere." Dipping his head Aramis' warm, dark eyes took in every aspect of Charle's delight in sitting with them.

"My only worry is what the morrow will bring and the plans King Louis has made for Charle's birthday." Pursing his lips together, Athos glanced at Porthos. The bigger man only began to chuckle. "You laugh now, mon ami, but I fear what His Majesty may spring on all of us."

"Jus' go with whatever it is, Athos. Ya can't afford an ulcer thinkin' on it." This time Porthos had a winning hand again. His dark eyes twinkling, he dropped a kiss on his good luck charm's petit head. "Runt 'ere brings good fortune."

"Then give him to me," Aramis said sourly. "As I seem to be on the losing end here." Constance began laughing at his remark, while helping Charles down from Porthos' lap. "You haven't won yet either. So why are you so amused?," he added darkly.

"I haven't a clue how to play this game. So I have no expectations of winning." Her amusement was contagious and soon all the men were laughing along with her. "I'm simply enjoying the camaraderie with my good friends."

"Papa Mis," settling himself on his papa's lap, Charles whispered, "I'll bring you luck."

"I'll hold you to that, mon coeur." Winking at Porthos, Aramis began to deal out the cards. "I've a feeling my luck's about to turn."

So it was that their card game continued until early evening with periodic breaks in-between. Having made sandwiches for them earlier, Aramis brought the tray out. Then they picked on more sweets and the adults also indulged in another glass of wine.

During the game, everyone was in high spirits. As for Aramis' luck it did turn but for the worse. So when it was time for Constance to return home, he withdrew from the game to escort her back.

++++

_Constance's house_

"My thanks, kind sir." Bobbing him a neat curtsey, Constance then reached for the door handle but before she could her hand was covered by a leather gloved one.

Turning her around, Aramis could tell she was puzzled by the way her brows drew together. "Just making sure again," he gave her his most charming smile. "We're good?"

Blowing a piece of hair out of her eyes, she huffed. "I thought we had that settled, silly."

"I need to be humored from time to time," Aramis replied. "I'm insecure that way."

"You... _insecure_!" she scoffed. "Ha! That'll be the day, mon ami!" Gently pushing him away, Constance was ready to call it a night.

"You haven't seen me when I miss hitting a target," he threw at her back while Constance's smaller form disappeared inside.

Poking her head out from behind the door, she pulled a funny face. "Non, I haven't and I doubt I ever will for you rarely miss what you aim at."

Knowing they had reached a new understanding in their relationship, Aramis dipped his head. "Au revoir, Constance."

"Au revoir." Closing the door behind her, Constance leaned back against it smiling.

++++

_Notes:_

_Quote:_ _"If you have only one smile give it to the people you love"_ is from Maya Angelou (April 4, 1928 – May 28, 2014). She was an American poet, memoirist, and civil rights activist.

_Quote:_ _"The best thing about the future is that it comes one day at a time"_ is from Abraham Lincoln (February 12, 1809 – April 15, 1865). I don't believe I have to tell anyone who he was but will mention it anyway. He was an American politician and lawyer who served as the 16th President of the United States from March 1861 until his assassination in April 1865.

_Brioche_ \- sweet yeast bun


	46. Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow! 46 chapters! Longest story I've ever done. I thank all of you who have been with me and Charles through the beginning of this with lovely comments and even suggestions. You guys are the reason I keep writing.  
> Somewhere down the road I wanted to pick this up again perhaps when Charles is 12. Time will tell and RL too.  
> Enough said and I'm blowing sweet birthday kisses to Charles now.  
> I hope you like the celebration to come.
> 
> See notes below.
> 
> ++++

_Next day, late morning – Royal Palace_

“Louis!” She had been searching for him nearly all over the palace. To find him in the kitchens confounded Anne. “What in the world are you doing in here?”

“Making sure everything’s coming along nicely.” He even went so far as to poke his nose in chef’s oven. Chef Morin was not pleased with him. Louis could tell that instantly when the man turned his nose up in the air, sniffing disdainfully. Whereas Louis was the driving force in the palace it was Chef Morin who was in charge of the kitchens, and Morin didn’t care if he upset him or not.

Tugging on Louis’ arm, she hissed, “Tis not a done thing to bother the chef. Now come away from here.” As Anne was pushing him out the double doors, Louis kept twisting his head to glance inside the kitchens once more. “Honestly!” she huffed. “You’re worse than a child at times.” Hearing someone clearing their throat from directly behind them Anne turned around to discover a highly amused Cardinal Richelieu.

“Problems with the kitchen staff?” Taking in the sheepish look upon King Louis’ face and the harried one of the queen, Richelieu decided not to pursue further inquiries.

“If by _problem_ you mean the king,” keeping a tight hold on her husband’s arm, Anne rolled her eyes, “then oui.”

Finally pulling his arm free, King Louis addressed His Eminence. “I was merely making sure things were in good order.”

“I can’t imagine Chef Morin tolerated your presence in his domain, Sire.” Stroking his mustache in thought, Richelieu knew from personal experience how touchy the chef was. In fact his own chef was cut from the same cloth.

Ignoring the cardinal’s words, King Louis headed toward the ballroom.

“Now where are you going?” Ever since they both had arisen this morn, Anne had been exasperated with his behavior. So now, once again, she trailed after him. 

Abruptly Louis came to a halt at her question. Spinning on his heel he held up a hand for her to stop following him. “I’m making sure the _you know what_ has been assembled.”

Listening to His Eminence’ chuckles Queen Anne rounded on him. “If you're finding amusement in this, Cardinal, then I’ll leave you to deal with my husband.”

“My humble apologies, Your Majesty." Features turning serious, he could see it really had been a trying time for her so far this morn. “Tis just that I have never seen him behave in this manner before.”

“He is nervous that something will go wrong and wants everything to be perfect for Charles.” Anne did as well but wouldn’t be driving everyone to distraction like Louis was currently doing.

“Tis to be hoped that the king’s nerves will settle down soon.” Bowing, Richelieu made his departure before the queen got wind of why he too had sought them out.

“Cardinal,” Queen Anne called out to him. When he turned around, she drew closer. “Why were you here to begin with?”

After what was going on with His Majesty, he was ashamed to tell her. When the queen’s tinkling laugh filled the hallway where they stood, Richelieu offered her a stiff smile.

“You too?” Still laughing, Queen Anne made for the kitchens again to calm down their chef. Knowing Cardinal Richelieu was doing some _checking_ of his own nearly made what she had put up with Louis bearable. The picture of Cardinal Richelieu's embarrassed face stayed with her all the way to the kitchens.

++++

_Constance’s house_

Having skipped breakfast, for they all knew a feast awaited them in honor of Charles, the inseparables stopped to pick Constance up.

“I expected all of you to be on your horses.” Surprise registered on her attractive face, as her friends had arrived in one of the palace carriages.

“’Ow did ya ‘spect ta get ta the palace?” Porthos chuckled as she blushed prettily.

“Oui, Constance.” Aramis grinned, enjoying the sight of her face fill with color. “Do tell.”

“I thought…” She would not yell at them. She just wouldn’t do that today of all days. Getting her quick temper back under control, before her unruly tongue ran away with her, Constance said, “That I would be riding with one of you of course.”

"That would have mussed up your lovely gown," Athos pointed out.

“This was for my birthday, Constance.” Sticking his head out of the carriage window, Charles began waving her to come inside. “No riding with papas today.”

As Athos helped her step into the carriage she bounced a few times on the cushioned seats, testing them out. “Tis a nice thing for Their Majestys to do for you, Charles.” Sitting beside the petit, Constance took in the blue outfit she had made for him. Pleased the child chose to wear it today, Constance hugged him to her side until he squeaked. Noting the youngster kept fingering the fleur-de-lis she had embroidered on the upper left shoulder of his jacket, she pulled his hand away. “Keep doing that and you’ll ruin my stitching.”

“Why did you put it there? This isn’t a uniform like the one I got for Christmas?”

“Tis so everyone knows you belong to us.” Dropping a quick kiss to the top of his head, Constance began blushing again when all the eyes of the inseparables rested on her.

“I know I belong,” Charles announced firmly. When his papas, and Constance, began laughing so did he. Though Charles wasn’t exactly sure why everyone was doing so but he didn’t want to be left out.

“Ummmm.” She glanced over at Athos whose blue eyes fell warmly on his son. “Do we know what to expect once we get there?”

Crossing himself, looking heavenward, Aramis shook his head. “Only God knows the answer to that.”

Not sure if Aramis was trying to be amusing or serious, Constance waited to see if Porthos had a clue. But the bigger man only had one thought in his head when he did respond.

“Only thing we know for sure is that there will be a ton of food.”

"Porthos, you happen to be the only individual I ever met," she playfully tapped him on his massive chest with her fan, "that could out eat everyone in the room and still be hungry for more."

"Weren't much opportunities ta eat much livin' in the Court," Porthos grunted. "Even knowin' there's plenty ta eat doesn't stop me from wantin' more." He looked at her gravely. "I'm not excusin' the way I am. Ya get what ya see with me."

"Oh, Porthos." Closing her eyes against the brief flash of pain Constance witnessed in his dark eyes, she felt badly. "I didn't mean to make you unhappy."

"I know ya didn't, missy." He gave her a roguish wink.

"Rarely does he explain himself," Aramis put in.

"Then I'm honored." Dipping her head at the dark-skinned Musketeer, she was glad he wasn't mad at the jest she had made.

Not quite as oblivious as to the undercurrents around him as they may think, Charles wanted to lighten the mood. "King Louis told papa Thos that he had a nice surprise for me." Wrinkling his nose up, Charles looked at each of his papas. "He wasn't supposed to get me anything."

"One could suggest to the king not to do something," Athos began to explain, "but it does not mean that His Majesty would listen, mon ange." Hearing his son sighing, all Athos could hope for was that Louis didn't get anything too big that they wouldn't be able to fit into the carriage.

++++

_Noon - Royal Palace, main hall_

Off duty Musketeers and Red Guards milled about waiting for the birthday garcon's arrival. Charles favorite Musketeers were also in attendance. Germaine, Dufort, Paul, Eustis and Merle had all rearranged their schedules with Captain Treville so they could wish the petit well on his natal day. Even Gregoire Parris, who had sold Athos the Meren for Charles, was there. Both physicians had been invited as well. Currently Doctors Devereaux and Perrot were standing in a corner talking shop. Just like during Christmas, children belonging to the palace's retainers were invited. While waiting for their friend they enjoyed a performance by one of the jugglers the king had hired.

When the inseparables, Charles and Constance, entered the main hall it was to the youngster that all attention focused. Most of the guests came up to the petit to greet him and wish him a happy birthday. Porthos, on the other hand, began to salivate at the sight of the buffet table in the center of the room. He hadn't even noticed yet the other buffet set up in the corner covered with scrumptious desserts.

"Tis a shame that Louis doesn't think to share this bounty of food with his subjects." Glancing at Aramis, Athos noted the marksman was on the same page as he was. Even though Porthos would eat and drink his fill as they all would, Athos could still see an old pain reflected in his brother's eyes.

"We must live simply so others may simply live." Removing his chapeau, Aramis took stock of the banquet before them. "Or at least tis what the church teaches."

"Perhaps Charles will start having a good influence on the king and things may change for the better." Gripping Charle's hand in her own, Constance led the youngster over to where the punch was. After quenching their thirst, they walked over to the main buffet table.

"What is everything?" Not recognizing most of the dishes, Charles was wary of tasting any of it.

"Let's see if Chef Morin has time to tell us." Leading Charles over to where chef was supervising his staff Constance tapped him on the arm. "Charles would like to know what delicacies you have prepared for his birthday party."

Puffing out his chest, Morin smiled down at the child. Finally, people who appreciated his culinary talents. Placing an arm around Charle's shoulder, Morin led him down the buffet explaining things to him. "I'll start with the centerpiece first." He was quite pleased with how it had turned out. "Tourte Parmerienne," Morin proudly announced. It was a pastry dish made to resemble a castle with chicken-drumstick turrets coated with gold leaf. Moving on from there he showed them dishes of venison, Coq au Vin, smoked salmon, an array of meat pies, a huge tray of steamed vegetables surrounded by a variety of cheeses and escargot. Ending with a gigantic assortment of hors d'oeuvres. Kissing his fingertips, Morin laughed. "Magnifique, eh?"

Still not sure what those dishes were that the chef had kindly explained to him, Charles didn't respond to the question. Looking up at Constance he whispered, "We never had anything like this in Lupiac."

"Nor did my family," she agreed, trying not to smile at how chef was preening before them.

After listening to the litany of cuisine Chef Morin had touted, Porthos clapped Athos on the shoulder pointing to another table just off of the main buffet. "There's where the wine is."

"I've already looked over the selection." Winking at Porthos, Aramis grinned. "It would seem Louis spared no expense."

"Of course not," Athos remarked dryly. He would have indeed been surprised if His Majesty had been tightfisted. 

"Tis indeed a fine selection consisting of Chardonnay, Cabernet Sauvignon, Pinot Noir, Merlot and," Aramis could tell Porthos was beginning to get thirsty, "there's even champagne."

"I believe on our way here that Constance told us there would also be coffee and tea available." Noting both his friends scowl darkly at him, Athos paid no attention.

"Aw, come on!" Porthos griped. "We're not gonna get drunk." When Athos arched that brow, Porthos was really beginning to hate, he knew not to argue back.

"We limit ourselves to one no more than two glasses of whatever we decide to drink." Making sure his message was received, Athos added, "I am sure that the coffee and tea being served will be quite palatable."

"Kill joy," Porthos muttered sourly.

Whispering in Porthos' ear Aramis spoke in low tones so that Athos wouldn't hear him. "Perhaps we could smuggle a bottle of wine home."

"Eh, Mis, I like the way ya think." With a sideways look at Athos' set face, Porthos knew the man had heard every word.

"I am going to find Their Majestys." His friends were still finding it hard at times to curb their old ways. Athos would never tell them but he felt the same way. But raising Charles was their priority and Athos wanted to do it right.

++++

Not yet done with them, Chef Morin steered the young Mademoiselle and Charles over to the dessert table. "I was told that you love chocolate, Charles," Morin smiled at the garcon. "So I made this four-tier chocolate cake with chocolate icing layered with sweet cherries in your honor."

"Merci." The cake was about the only thing that tempted Charle's appetite so far.

"I do not like to boast," Morin, missing the roll of eyes from Constance, continuied on, "but my Pomp aux Pommes du Perigord has been applauded by King Louis as the best he had ever tasted."

"I'm very sure it is," Constance sweetly remarked. "What of your other creations?"

He began ticking them off one by one. Beginning with chocolate mousse, crème brûlée, crème caramel flan, a variety of turnovers and tarte aux fruits, petite madeleines, and finishing off with his profiteroles and crullers. Leaning down he tapped Charles on the nose. "And just for you we'll later be serving crème glacé with your birthday cake."

"Oh, Constance!" Clapping his hands together, Charles started getting quite excited. "I've only tasted that once. It melted in my mouth."

"Merci, Chef Morin, for your kindness in showing off your considerable skills to us." Impressed, Constance couldn't imagine how long it took to cook and bake everything she had seen.

"It was nothing, Mademoiselle but now I really must head back to my kitchen." Before he departed, Morin bowed smartly. "Bon appetit!"

++++

Finally Aramis and Porthos seated themselves enjoying an apéritif before going up to the buffet tables. They noted that Athos was still busy speaking with the king and queen. Something both of them would do later as well. When Constance joined them they stood up in deference to her and then Aramis, ever the gentleman, seated her himself.

Sipping her cup of tea, Constance observed Charles leave their table to run over and hug the young royal couple. Something Charles had told her he had wanted to do to thank them. It brought a tender smile to her face. How sweet the petit was. He drew people to him without even trying. Thinking kind thoughts about the poppet brought to mind Charle's pet. "Good thing Alex was left at home."

"Don't, Constance," Aramis winced. "Just don't remind me what she did last time there was a buffet table set out." Her giggles brought about an answering grin of his own while Porthos held up a warning finger.

++++

Meanwhile Athos and Charles stood talking with Their Majestys. Taking each of their hands, Charles pulled them toward the table where his papa Mis, papa Porth and Constance were. "I want you both to sit with me."

"I believe, Louis," Anne laid her head on his shoulder, "we have just been given our orders."

"Which we will happily obey." Squeezing her free hand Louis let himself be maneuvered over to the family table.

From that point onward, people kept coming up to give Charles their best wishes. Arriving slightly late, Captain Treville and Cardinal Richelieu appeared. Both men had prior commitments to tend before arriving to the party.

Everyone enjoyed the excellent food, especially when it came to the desserts. It had taken until Charles was full, and beginning to get bored with all the adult talk floating over his head, that he decided to go over to another table set up for just the children that were invited. He had been befriended by nearly all of them at Christmas and had played with them since then.

After a short while, King Louis decided it was time to unveil his surprise. "I believe we should take our Charles over to the ballroom now." When King Louis stood up the entire table did so as well. Taking his wife by the hand they strolled over to where the children were. "Charles, I have provided entertainment for you and the other young ones in my ballroom."

"Oh, was that the surprise you told me about?"

"To be sure." Gazing at the other children, Louis waved at them to follow him.

++++

_Royal ballroom_

When the guards opened the doors to the ballroom, Louis covered Charle's eyes with his hands. "Don't peek or you'll spoil your surprise."

"I won't."

"Tis a shame winter is still upon us," Anne whispered to him. "We could have done this in the Royal Gardens."

"It worked out well anyway." With a finger to his lips for the other children to be quiet, Louis guided Charles inside. It wasn't until they were halfway into the room that Louis uncovered Charle's eyes. At first he was worried the petit didn't like what he had arranged for him. Exchanging concerned looks back and forth between himself and Anne, Louis finally bent down to stare into the child's face. "Do you not like it, Charles?" Noting tears shimmering in the petit's eyes, he whipped out his handkerchief but found he didn't need it as the tears never fell.

"I love it!" Throwing himself at the king Charles sniffled into His Majesty's chest. "Merci! Merci!"

While Louis hugged the garcon back, Anne placed her hand on top of the lad's head. "I for one can't wait to try it myself.”

"Oui!" Beside himself with excitement, Charles nearly forgot about his other young friends. "Can they go on with me?"

Hearing joyous exclamations from the other children, Louis and Anne grinned at one another. "Tis what it's here for." Waving them all over there was a mad dash for the carrousel.

When Cardinal Richelieu, Captain Treville, Constance and the inseparables entered the ballroom, Richelieu was the only one not surprised.

“Louis wanted this kept under wraps but had asked my advice on how to procure one for Charle’s birthday celebration.” Noting the stunned faces of the others, Richelieu figured the shock would wear off soon.

“The ballroom may never be the same again,” Treville offered with an amused look toward his men and Constance.

“At least we do not have to worry about taking it home,” Athos remarked tongue in cheek. To which everyone found quite amusing.

“I have heard of them but never saw one before.” Eyeing the contraption, Constance counted at least fourteen wooden horses. They were beautifully crafted, colorful works of art. Their flowing manes had various flowers carved and painted into them that carried down into their main bodies, along with many other intricate carvings covering them. The wooden saddles were just as brightly painted and with just as many decorations on them as the animals themselves. No two horses appeared alike to her eyes. There was an assortment of brown, black, white and tan horses. Making the overall picture a remarkable display.

While she was admiring the art of the carrousel, the men were looking over how it was constructed. The wooden horses sat in rows on a rotating platform. The animals were connected to a strong pole in the center of the carrousel which was attached to both the floor and ceiling of the ride. Real horses had been brought in to pull the carrousel in a circle thus saving the bother of the king using his servants, for that would have been the only other way for it to work. Of course the young monarch could have always brought in mules but those animals were a stubborn lot and couldn’t always be trusted to move when you wanted them to.

“Constance,” Aramis placed a hand under her arm to guide her over to the ride, “why don’t you join the queen.” He indicated the bucket seats situated between the wooden horses. “I’m sure she’d enjoy the company seeing that His Majesty has decided to join the children on the horses.”

She didn’t need a second prodding and went to sit beside Queen Anne. Both women began giggling like the petites on the ride. They waved at the men standing watching them as the carrousel began to move.

It was then that a group of musicians the king had provided began to play lively tunes on their instruments. Songs that children would find entertaining.

Porthos looked at Aramis who in turn stared curiously at Athos. “Think that thing ‘ill hold up?”

“I will assume it has been tested thoroughly and will not collapse from use.” He too had worried upon first viewing the carrousel. Athos didn't think his response had satisfied Porthos though. Even Aramis appeared doubtful.

“Gentlemen,” Richelieu broke into their thoughts. “It had already been tested and is quite safe.” Young Charles was delighted, he could tell. The garcon kept laughing and waving at them every time he looked their way. “Ah, to be that young again.”

“I know I've said it before but there are certain parts of my own youth that are best not relived,” Aramis admitted out loud.

“Nor I,” Athos firmly agreed.

“Yeah, me too.” Waving at Charles, Porthos wondered how much weight those wooden horses could hold.

Knowing what was in their friend's mind, both Arams and Athos shook their heads at him.

“Do you want to break it and end their enjoyment?” Studying the look of irritation crossing the larger man’s face, Aramis began to laugh. “Tis called a jest, Porthos.”

“We could try out those seats as well like Constance and the queen are doing,” Athos suggested to the surprise of all. Noting everyone’s shock, he simply shrugged. “Why not?”

“I’ll join you as well,” said Treville to which Richelieu raised a brow. “You might as well come too.”

“Oh very well." Grimacing, Richelieu followed the others.

“Charles would be disappointed if you didn't.” Chuckling at the face the cardinal pulled, Treville smiled. "It won't hurt. I promise."

“What I don’t do for that garcon.” Trailing behind the captain, Richelieu waited for the carrousel to stop so they all could get on.

“Wheeeee!” Charles cried out, along with the other children. Though the carrousel didn’t move along very fast, he was having so much fun. Riding another horse opposite him was King Louis. Reaching out Charles grabbed his hand. “I'm so happy! Merci for both of you doing this.”

“I rather like it myself,” Louis chuckled. Staring down into the bucket seats at Anne and Constance, he waved at them. “Oh, Anne,” his eyes twinkled, “what do you say that we keep this?”

Laughing up at him Anne shook her head, eyes shining brightly. “We have enough toys lying about. We don’t need any more taking up room to gather dust after you’ve become bored with it.”

She made good sense and so Louis decided against the idea. Holding up his hand, he signaled to the men guiding the horses to stop the ride for he had noted Treville was trying to gain their attention. “What is it, my old fox?”

“You can’t hog all the fun, Sire.” Treville jumped up on the platform as did the inseparables. Richelieu though got on cautiously.

“Good show,” Louis was all smiles. Now his family was complete, as everyone he cared for shared the enjoyment.

As Richelieu took a bucket seat, the rest of the men followed suit.

“Papas!” Charles laughed, waving at them from his painted horse. “This is the best birthday!”

“Here's to many, many more, mon coeur.” Basking in the joy Charles was sharing with them, Aramis vowed not forget this precious memory.

“Eh, pipsqueak,” Porthos grinned. “You’re no longer a bébé now. Happy fourth.”

“You will continue to grow older and wiser, mon ange,” Athos’ lips twitched. “Not like your papas.”

“Hey!” Porthos yelled indignantly. “Who are ya callin' stupid?”

“I’m with Porthos on that, mon ami.” Glaring at his eldest brother Aramis noted the rise of one eyebrow followed by Athos’ trademark smirk.

“Do you gents not know when you’re being jested with?” Treville traded amused grins with his lieutenant.

"Sometimes tis hard to tell with Athos," Aramis quipped, patting Porthos on the back.

“You know I almost shudder to think what King Louis could come up with for Charles birthday next year.” Holding hands, both women giggled at Constance's remark.

As if King Louis had heard Constance's words he loudly announced, “I will have to think of something tremendous to do upon Charle’s fifth natal day.”

It was a good thing there was music playing in the background for His Majesty missed hearing the groans released from all the adults present.

“I don’t know if we’re going to survive all these celebrations for our son.” Exchanging wry glances with his brothers, Aramis could only shake his head.

“I’ll survive the food,” Porthos grinned at the roll of eyes his remark garnered from Athos and Aramis.

“We will endure, mes freres, as we always do.” Gazing upon Charle’s chattering away with His Majesty, Athos was content. “Oui, mes amis… we will more than endure.”

The End

++++

_Notes:_

_Quote: "We must live simply so others may simply live"_ is from Pauline Webb. I tried looking her up but there was no Wikipedia on her. But I believe I found the right person anyway. She was a Methodist and Ecumenical leader who was an inspired choice as BBC World Service organizer of religious broadcasting.

 _Magnifique_ \- Magnificent.  
_Tourte Parmerienne_ \- pastry dish resembling a castle with chicken-drumstick turrets coated with gold leaf.  
_Coq au Vin_ \- French braise of chicken cooked with mushrooms, garlic and wine.  
_Pomp aux Pommes du Perigord_ \- is apples and almonds in a flaky pastry.  
_Petite Madeleines_ \- Are traditional small sponge cakes with a shell-like shape which comes from being baked in pans with shell-shaped depressions.  
_Tarte aux Fruits_ \- Fruit tarts.  
_Crème Brûlée_ \- Dessert consisting of custard and toasted sugar.  
_Crème Caramel Flan_ \- Rich custard dessert with a layer of soft caramel.  
_Crème Glacé_ \- Ice Cream.  
_Profiteroles_ \- Cream Puffs made from Choux pastry. They can be filled with whipped cream, custard or ice cream.  
_Crullers_ \- Fluted ring-shaped doughnuts made from Choux pastry and has a light, airy texture.  
_Apéritif_ \- Before meal drink.

In chapter 39 I had an explanation about the _carrousel_. So for those of you who didn’t read it or need a refresher just go to the bottom of that chapter.  
But in the 17th century carrousels weren’t all that common yet and the ones that were weren’t the ones you and I are familiar with. In that I mean the horses/animals don’t go up and down because hydraulics weren’t invented yet. And because of that the carrousels were smaller because their rotating frame had to be powered by mules, horses or men. It wasn’t until 1870 that the first steam powered carrousel was invented. In Europe and America the carrousels turned counterclockwise. Also these early ones didn’t have band organs which provided loud, rhythmic music to accompany the movement of the carrousel. They were usually part of the central housing which contained the drive mechanism and centerpole of the modern carrousels. Hence Louis providing the musicians for the entertainment of the children. Also I combined something from the early Jouster Carousels, which were totally different from the one depicted in my story, and added bucket seats. Those were situated between the wooden horses to accommodate the jousters lady friends.


End file.
